The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. I wouldn’t even have to use very much gasoline. The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. ‘You would like? And do you imagine that I will tell you?’ ‘Won’t you?’ ‘No, a thousand times. Pottiswick had mentioned muttering. “Tell me his name,” he said, “and I promise that he shall never trouble you. Do you know that he is very much in love with you?” Anna smiled. There was more shouting. Wood laughed louder than ever.
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