His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses. It tore her apart. But he held the smile until she turned away from the curtain. Saviour's Church. Wood. Anna glanced into her sister’s face, and rose to her feet. But she certainly remembered that when she was a little girl he sometimes wore tennis flannels, and also rode a bicycle very dexterously in through the gates to the front door. Her usual dignified reserve had availed her nothing. The room was dark and dusty. "Women must have their wills while they live, since they can make none when they die," observed Wood, as he imprinted a kiss of reconciliation on the plump hand of his consort;—a sentiment to the correctness of which the party chiefly interested graciously vouchsafed her assent.
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