McClintock's initial revulsion was natural; he was an honest man. One studies Nature in order not to be blindly ruled by her. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. Wood cut him short by stating his intention of crossing the river as soon as possible in order to avoid the storm. “Is this Montague Street, W. Mr. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. Wood. “Ruin me? Think of me with fondness? Are you dying of cancer or something?” He demanded.
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