“My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. Even the children jeer. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. "I can't say I do," replied Wood. His salary was a few paltry hundreds a year. If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. The arrival of the cart at the end of Field Lane, appeared the signal for an attempt at rescue. “May I sit beside you?” “It’s a very difficult one,” said her aunt.
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