And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. Glancing around his prison, he began to think it possible he might effect an escape from it. In the bad light he looked at once military and sentimental and studious, like one of Ouida’s guardsmen revised by Mr. Still, his robust frame enabled him to hold out. ” “It is for your good—your good only I am thinking,” he declared. It was interesting to see how different and characteristic his mode of approach was to all sorts of questions that interested her, and it was amusing to discover this other side to the life of a Morningside Park inhabitant. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest.
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