The two great hotels on their right were still ablaze with lights. " "Mine is Howard Spurlock. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. He hesitated. Wood; "here's a pretty to-do about nothing. “MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again. Thank goodness there’s plenty of opportunity! And we two can talk. .
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