Ennison stood by her side. The likelihood is that I shan’t see the wench again. It plucked shingles from the school building, threatening to shake them all loose one by one like rotting teeth. But I found it no laughing matter, I can assure you. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. It mattered not whether she flunked the year as she would soon be gone.
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