"I am sorry. \"Shouldn't you be in bed? You go into work at 5:30, I thought. Through all this flutter of novelty there came and went a solicitous, preoccupied, almost depressed figure. She drew a long breath. Are you now satisfied?" "No," interposed Wood, furiously, "I shall never be satisfied till I see you hanged on the highest gibbet at Tyburn. And ever after it struck him that her backward smile as she disappeared was charged with some special significance. She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse.
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