I must go somewhere into hiding, a long, long way off. "At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up. Miss Klegg and the youngest girl made a vigorous attack on Miss Garvice, who had said she thought women lost something infinitely precious by mingling in the conflicts of life. Her new husband was pleased to watch the astonished look on her face as tray after tray appeared on the grand table, each better than the next. That's the way she strikes me. 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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