" "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other. ” She looked around for the voice around the Orchestra room, fumbling around with her books. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him.
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