There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. With great difficulty, Wood forced a path through the ruins. It’s not a bit of good pretending there’s any Higher Truth or wonderful principle in this business. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. She worried for her father in Mantua, 28 hoping that he was still alive. He would give The Tigress a triple coat of paint, and take these two on a long cruise, wherever they wanted to go—Roundhead and Seraph, the blunderbus and the flaming angel. "Austin will stare," thought Jack, "when he comes here in the morning.
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