Her heart thudded. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. From thoughts of fame to thoughts of mere bread and butter! It seemed to Spurlock that he had tumbled off the edge of Somewhere into the abyss of Nowhere. How I wish I might meet this delightful mystery lady of yours.
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