" "Well, well, since you desire it, I'll say no more," returned Wood. We pretend we never think of everything that makes us what we are. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. ‘Suppose you don’t know what sort of proof she was after?’ he asked. "Read that. He's got the gift of the gab. ” “You! Why, you have been an angel to her,” he exclaimed impatiently. ’ There was no denial in Martha’s face, though Melusine longed to hear her words contradicted.
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