Wood, sinking into a chair, and fanning herself violently,—"what a fluster you have put me into with your violence, to be sure! And at the very time, too, when you know I'm expecting a visit from Mr. He has helped me out of scrapes though, no end of times. For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate. Spurlock advanced, the censer swung high. Annabel, tell me that you did not wish me dead. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark.
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