Two hours had come and gone during this tantalizing occupation. He was in a position to help her. The woollen-draper was no despicable trencherman in a general way; but his feats with the knife and fork were child's sport compared with those of Mr. "Leave the room instantly, sirrah!" rejoined the lady, bouncing up, and giving him a slap on the cheek that made his eyes flash fire. It’s a tremendous blow, of course—but it doesn’t kill me. ’ There was a silence. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. . D'ye hear. That's the job. Wood?" "With pleasure," replied the woollen-draper.
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