The door was then locked, and he was left alone. Nothing would stop her, and she was prepared to face the consequences. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. In vain Wood protested his innocence. Drummond patted him on the shoulder. Of course, there'll be a few kinks to straighten out. Were the parents agreeable? Were they of age? Had the license been procured? But here, in a far country, only the velvet manacles of wedlock were necessary. Look at these walls. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. Two-and-twenty! I can’t imagine what your parents can be thinking about to let you get into these scrapes.
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