"What do you mean by that, sirrah?" cried Wood, reddening with anger. Her head was downcast as she studied the museum-like exhibits of various dusts on the resilient tile flooring. Presently her aunt sighed deeply and looked at the clock. I didn’t! I didn’t! After all—” For a time her mind ran on daintiness and its defensive restraints as though it was the one desirable thing. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she panted, shifting wildly in his hold, so that he had all to do to keep her thus imprisoned. “Get you a cold one?” “No thanks. ” He said mischievously. Lucy acted the part of savoring the end of the meal, but it was difficult.
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