“You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. She did not learn the kind of looks she had been bestowing upon him at a convent. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. The few pence left in her purse would only provide a very scanty lunch. She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train. I just thought perhaps a different boy was in store for you.
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