"My God! will you see your child strangled before your eyes, and not so much as scream for help?" said Wood, staring at the widow with a look of surprise and horror. Kneebone assured her that he did say so; and, as a further proof of his sincerity, squeezed her hand very warmly under the table. Who's the lucky boy, Lucy?\" Lucy looked at her slippered feet. Only an undermaid I was then. By a tacit agreement they ignored the significant thing between them, ignored the slipping away of the ground on which they had stood together hitherto. They were the same. The afternoon had passed now into twilight.
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