Wood, who were, furthermore, engaged in a little conjugal tête-à-tête of their own. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. We fixed that. “Good-bye, John,” she said simply. ” “You love—Anna?” she exclaimed. She was perfectly aware that the boy had gotten some sort of bug in his craw over her despite her sloppy, strange appearance. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. Water I need.
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