"It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. “The walk has given me an appetite, and I do not feel like waiting till five o’clock. We shall see. “What are you doing?” he asked. He could not tell by the look of her whether she was glad or sorry that presently she would be free. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. Youth finds it pleasant sometimes to be melancholy. And yet that could not be: it was a confession only in the event of his death. She had the same sharp nose—which, indeed, only Ann Veronica, of all the family, had escaped. He found his youngest daughter intrusive in his thoughts all through the morning, and still more so in the afternoon.
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