Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. "Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs. What had actually beaten him was not to have known if someone had picked up his trail. ’ ‘Well, I am glad he did not,’ intervened Lucilla, forestalling another withering comment from the captain. All this— the island and its affairs—was an old story; but her own peculiar distaste had vanished to a point imperceptible, for she was seeing the island through her husband's eyes, as in the future she would see all things. “It is part of the irony of life,” he said. "What was it?" He was insistent. So he found her when he came round the corner of the spinney.
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