” 209 Clotilde was no fool. The dusky obscurity of the room was twice welcome. "No such thing," rejoined the jailer; "he's coming on business. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. In spite of God and wasps and her father, she had stolen plums; and once because of discovered misdeeds, and once because she had realized that her mother was dead, she had lain on her face in the unmown grass, beneath the elmtrees that came beyond the vegetables, and poured out her soul in weeping. In seconds, they faced each other before the altar.
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