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“We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. Then he entered her passionately, riding her with exquisite precision. “Cheer up, Annabel. “Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. Several men and women were piled there like wood, dead, horribly gored. "Women must have their wills while they live, since they can make none when they die," observed Wood, as he imprinted a kiss of reconciliation on the plump hand of his consort;—a sentiment to the correctness of which the party chiefly interested graciously vouchsafed her assent.
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