It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. " "The ways of Providence are inscrutable," observed Wood. On the day he carried the manuscript to Copeley's he brought back a packet of letters, magazines, and newspapers. He guided himself between her legs. It was a haunted place. He passed, and came loitering back and stood beside her, silently looking into her face. He was a bad dog; he knew it perfectly; but where there was laughter, there was hope. She found herself anxious to read more of him, and the next Wednesday she went to the British Museum and hunted first among the half-crown magazines for his essays and then through various scientific quarterlies for his research papers. Shari entered the room in a damp towel, fresh from the shower.
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