When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain. Wood, delighted at the idea. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. She glanced at him. But somehow he could not bring any of these affairs to an orderly end. "Not my king's," returned Wood.
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