Come, come, be reasonable, and listen to me. "It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. She had need of a devoted cavalier and Jack had proved eminently valuable. He came as an agreeable diversion from an insoluble perplexity. “What ought she to do?” “Suppose you—” “Yes, suppose I—” He felt that his advice was being asked. She was dressed in a little white frock, with a very long body, and very short sleeves, which looked (from a certain fullness about the hips,) as if it was intended to be worn with a hoop. Every day in the year you will witness such scenes. I’d rather starve!” For a moment the conversation hung upon that declaration. Wood hadn't struck me. Her head felt absurdly like one of those noddling manikins in the Hong-Kong curio-shops. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford.
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