His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. . Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject. Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated. She counted three on the way to the train and four more on the crowded car that would have gladly taken him to bed with not so much as a word. She became aware that at regular intervals a light flashed upon her face and a bodiless eye regarded her, and this, as the night wore on, became a torment. “You should quit.
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