still a kid!” He said. Ann Veronica liked their relationship all the more because it was an unusual one. ‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. “You need have no further trouble. Answering him was agonizing. On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters.
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