The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. " "On no account," rejoined Wood peremptorily. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. “Just your Science room with the planes. “I have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive. Ennison listened, and he forgot where he was. Then he took the pulse. Things now began to wear so serious a aspect that a messenger was secretly despatched to the Savoy for troops, and in half an hour a regiment of the guards arrived, who by dint of great exertion succeeded in partially dispersing the tumultuous assemblage. He refused. There is worse to come.
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