"It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. It was not in evidence here, not a sign of it. But it was almost choked up with fallen stacks of chimneys, broken beams of timber, and shattered tiles. She floundered deep. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. She was already a little prepared by her discursive reading and discussion under the Widgett influence for ideas and “movements,” though temperamentally perhaps she was rather disposed to resist and criticise than embrace them.
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