My heart fails me. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. “In private. “Let me see,” she said to herself, trying to control a slight sinking of the heart, “I am going to take a room in a lodging-house because that is cheaper. " "Oh, that!" He raised his head, staring at her in blank astonishment. ” “I can assure you,” he answered, “that it isn’t a habit of mine. "Speak plainly. As soon as he had read it, he let it fall from his grasp.
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