" "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. She closed her eyes as if asleep, her hands folded neatly on her abdomen. Covered with houses, from one end to the other, this reverend and picturesque structure presented the appearance of a street across the Thames. ” She marked an hotel that seemed neither opulent nor odd in a little side street opening on the Embankment, made up her mind with an effort, and, returning by Hungerford Bridge to Waterloo, took a cab to this chosen refuge with her two pieces of luggage. Except that this music we have been swimming in is divine. And for me there is only one treasure-house. I shall count it a privilege. Each time a daughter had been born to him he had concealed his chagrin with great tenderness and effusion from his wife, and had sworn unwontedly and with passionate sincerity in the bathroom.
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