Wood,—Winifred fainted in the arms of a female attendant,—and Wood standing beside them almost in a state of distraction. Wood's, the carpenter in Wych Street. “You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. He was the social order; he was law and wisdom. “You found the flat easily?” said Capes in the pause.
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