Ann Veronica was carried off her intellectual and critical feet by it altogether, and applauded and uttered cries that subsequent reflection failed to endorse. "Well, Mr. "So, stir your stumps, Saint Giles; and, if you mean to lock us up, use despatch. With this she now entered. \" Lucy replied. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. " "'Tis he, by Heaven!" cried Jonathan; "this is lucky. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor.
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