The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. A shudder rippled across his shoulders. ” Her breath left her for a moment. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. Petrified and speechless, he turned an imploring look at Wild, who was himself filled with astonishment at the pile of rubbish lying before him. Stanley, putting his hands on the table in the manner rather of a barrister than a solicitor, and regarding her balefully through his glasses with quite undisguised animosity, asked, “And may I presume to inquire, then, what you mean to do?—how do you propose to live?” “I shall live,” sobbed Ann Veronica. “I’m inclined to think, Stanley, myself that as a matter of fact it was the expurgated Romeo and Juliet did the mischief.
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