‘But only think, Hilary,’ Lucy protested, evidently too involved in her theory to waste time in scolding. “Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. The father, granite; the daughter, fire: Spurlock saw the one and heard the other, his amazement indescribable. “Not for these things, O Ann Veronica, have you revolted,” it said; “and this is not your appropriate purpose. A pity, en effet, that she dare not truly desire him to rescue her. What CAN she put before that?” His voice began to rise. Wood, however, made known his presence to the individual by laying his hand upon his shoulder. Poor young lady! She trembled too, and was unable to give her evidence.
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