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’ ‘What? But—’ ‘Precisely, Hilary. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. ’ ‘What sort of “down on your luck”?’ asked Alderley. Twenty-one, twenty-two. Her white shirt was ridiculously utilitarian, but fitted in all the right places, he smirked. She is in the hall now.
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