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. “Does a bear shit in the woods?” He said. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. This is no place for me. But what I do is based upon the fact that he is one of those individuals who are conscience-driven. The appearance of the new-comer was extremely prepossessing; and, after his trepidation had a little subsided, Wood began to regard him with some degree of interest. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her.
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