He felt his heart beat faster and faster—his self-restraint slipping away. Why do I want him so badly? Why do I want him, and think about him, and fail to get away from him? “It isn’t all of me. Wood; "that's the surest way!" "No! no! give it me!" vociferated Wood, snatching the pistol, and rushing to the door, against which he placed his back. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. It was a refusal of expediency, he said, and not an absolute refusal. Mind, when we were all growed up, it were different.
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