"When it thunders, the thief becomes honest," muttered Wood. The queer phase of the dream was this, she was at no time a woman; she was symbolical of something, and he followed to learn what this something was. His lips were tight drawn. She bound a scarf tightly round the place where the blood seemed to be coming from. And, when I have seen him pining away before my eyes, getting thinner and thinner every day, I have sometimes thought my prayers were heard. His mind was busy with a résumé of yesterday's unusual events. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that.
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