He knew she would be there, practicing alone in 118. At last some anodyne formed itself from these exercises, and, with eyelashes wet with such feeble tears as only three-o’clock-in-the-morning pathos can distil, she fell asleep. ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. Wood could not avoid making a slight shuffling sound.
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