‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. ’ He turned to the goggling footman and thrust him towards the coach. A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender touches sent her senses reeling. So appalling was the sight, that even the murderers—familiar as they were with scenes of slaughter,—looked aghast at it. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation.
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