Into one of these he waded and rolled and rolled, despite her commands. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. His arm fell to his side. It might be three yards in width, and a few more in length; but it was covered with ooze and slime, and the waves continually broke over it. 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.
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