The girl’s gaze met his in interested inquiry. Above all, beware of Sir Rowland Trenchard. Take, if you please, your own pistol. Whenever you grow impatient with her, remember the folly of her father. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. Her face scarcely reflected his enthusiasm. Nothing else weighs against it. She did not want to feel such negative emotion towards any member of her foster family. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study.
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