And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. Evidently her foresight has saved me a funeral. You shall have the spending of every penny of my money. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. God gives us an equal chance; but we make ourselves. Easily I could have killed you. I am sorry, but you have spoilt me. I heard rumours of it in Paris, and the place since then has been closed. He barely shook the rose petals from her hair.
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