“Were you thinking of private apartments, a boarding-house or an hotel?” she asked. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. Wood was heard without, angrily demanding admittance. My motive in coming hither is to serve you, and save your life. Wood mentions?" inquired Jackson, as soon as the clatter that succeeded Mr. Lord, but it was a nun! Just as he had suspected. " "Proceed, Sir," said Trenchard, breathing hard.
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