She was amazed that at over sixhundred years old that she could miss her parents so bitterly. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. ‘What happened, ma’am?’ enquired Gerald gently. "I can't say I do," replied Wood. It must have cut him. Through her door curtain she could see the light from the study lamp.
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