“Hold on. " "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other. While there's life there's hope. "Did you write it?" "No. Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. After passing Tottenham Court Road, very few houses were to be seen on the right hand, opposite Wardour Street it was open country. The inner apartment was rather gracefully furnished with a thick, fine Turkish carpet, a good brass fender, a fine old bureau, and on the walls were engravings of two young girls’ heads by Greuze, and of some modern picture of boys bathing in a sunlit pool. Everything was blurred. "Again," cried Jonathan, sternly: "beware!" "What!" vociferated Trenchard. “You!” said Ann Veronica.
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