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"Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. In any place her beauty would have been an uncommon thing. There was a look in her eyes which puzzled him. She counted three on the way to the train and four more on the crowded car that would have gladly taken him to bed with not so much as a word. “Let’s go home. Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. He was aware of trying to scream because he was paralyzed and his legs would not move. Perhaps the old fool was not as fanciful as they had thought. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid.
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