The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. I didn't mean it. "There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. He temporized, and the girl raised her eyes once more to his. After all, it was really rather funny. Happened to be at the Chariot, you know, with Trodger, and it’s review day. "Dying, Sir Rowland. Oh, I’ve loved love, dear! I’ve loved love and you, and the glory of you; and the great time is over, and I have to go carefully and bear children, and—take care of my hair—and when I am done with that I shall be an old woman. The swelling in his limbs had also subsided. . I wonder,” he added, after a moment’s pause, “whether you ever realize how young you are.
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