She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. He had, he felt, to create certain ideas and vivify certain curiosities and feelings in her. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not. ” “Perhaps not,” she answered. I have been waiting a long time for a family like them. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica.
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