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Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. He never felt any need to explain himself. He stood up and she ushered him out of the small room. ” She went on, with a desperate attempt to be easy and colloquial: “You see, we were rather good friends, I thought, and now perhaps it will be difficult for us to get back to the old friendly footing. He felt the first sting of the whip. It is useless to talk. ‘My God!’ he said, ‘I’ll go after them and kill him.
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