He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. It was dry, as if she had powdered it. His face brightened at the sight of her, and he came toward her. " "Ay, marry," replied Wood, with a look that seemed to say that he did not think it required any surprising skill in the art of divination to predict the doom of the individual in question; but whatever opinion he might entertain, he contented himself with inquiring into the grounds of the conjuror's evil augury respecting the infant.
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