"It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. The walls were of immense thickness; the small windows double-grated and unglazed; the fire-place was without a grate; and a barrack-bed, divided into two compartments, occupied one corner. He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment. Wood's, the carpenter in Wych Street. Unconscious that his movements were watched, Shotbolt, meanwhile, hastened towards Wych Street. He went on. No: I must face it out. Wild will hang me.
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