The situation bothered him considerably. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. Assured, if he remained much longer where he was, he would inevitably perish, Wood recommended himself to the protection of Heaven, and began his perilous course. Their faces had bite marks that were hers. I don’t understand the workings of a gentleman’s mind. She had adored the stupid thing, and kept it in her pocket for about ten years. He watched her, savoring her curious attention. It looks so French to be affectionate.
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