" "Well, well, since you desire it, I'll say no more," returned Wood. “You have succeeded a little too well in your personation,” she said bitterly, “to get rid very easily of Mr. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. Just. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song.
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