" "Well, well, since you desire it, I'll say no more," returned Wood. She would be surrendering to all her impulses—particularly the good impulses—many of which society had condemned long since because they entailed too much trouble. “Dear old Daddy,” she said, “he’ll make a fearful fuss. Lucy clutched the pencil in defeat. Drummond, who had been about to speak, refrained. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. He is steeped in the conventions. I thought that he was dead.
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