I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. "Release your prisoner," continued Wood, "or the window is opened. "These writer chaps are queer birds. "No"—as if her thoughts were elsewhere. The crowning aspect of the incident, for her mind, was the discovery that he and her indiscretion with him no longer mattered very much. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. If you noticed, our house is fairly close to the road. " She sent a covert glance toward the young man.
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