"My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. But—It’s just this: who was to be hurt?” “I wish no one had to be hurt,” said Ann Veronica. ‘Small wonder in a way that he found hisself consolation elsewhere. But, like all your overbearing sex, you must have your own way. “You have dyed your hair and darkened your eyebrows. Always as black and bitter as gall. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. ” “You are not going to that ball! You are not going out of this house in that getup!” Ann Veronica tried yet more earnestly to treat him, as she would treat any man, with an insistence upon her due of masculine respect. Wood," cried David, pouring out a glass of the spirit, and offering it to the carpenter, "that'll warm the cockles of your heart. I suppose this is what she learns in her infernal London colleges. After a little further discourse the old man took his departure. He sat down beside her just as the room became darker. D.
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