“John?” He turned around in the recliner. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. "I can't say I did," replied Wood, somewhat reluctantly; "what with the confusion incident to the storm, and the subsequent press of business, I put it off till it was too late. Anna was having tea by herself when she entered. On this side of the canal she has no place to go. Then Manning flopped back in his chair and dropped his chin like a man shot. ‘Is that a gesture of friendship?’ She stamped her foot. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. You can scribble if you want to, but after you've given your eight hours daily to the mills.
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