He walked through a wide open archway, curtained with deep-blue curtains, into the apartment that served as a reception-room. Wood bore up with great fortitude against the shock, attended the inquest, delivered his evidence with composure, and gave directions afterwards for the funeral, which took place on the day but one following—Sunday. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. She has married some one he could not approve of, and gone right away. . Even to my own brother—if I had one—I could not tell everything, and you, although you are so kind, you are almost a stranger, aren’t you?” “No, no!” he protested. But they were too late. She is something different.
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