She approached this field with her usual liveliness of apprehension. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. " "What's that?" asked Wood with some curiosity. She could tell that he was furious in that instant. " "I sha'n't want these curtains. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. “Who did you live with before the Becks? I hear things. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. It was his heart. " Something in the child's voice, something in her manner, warned the spinster that her well-meaning inquisitiveness had received a set-back and that it would be dangerous to press it forward again. His expression became pained. She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did. It was a haunted place.
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