” “I realize I can’t see my mom or brother again. " "Mr. What's all this about, anyhow? You. "What for?" demanded Wood. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. Scarcely any one noticed the full measure of her consternation. It reverberated in the silence. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. She was to fall back amongst the ruck, a young woman of talent, content perhaps to earn a scanty living by painting Christmas cards, or teaching at a kindergarten.
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