“You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. "Not the sort of stories young ladies should read. " There was a pause. "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. ” He said wistfully. 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. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. And sometimes he overflowed with a peculiarly malignant wit that played, with devastating effect, upon any topics that had the courage to face it.
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