Wood caught hold of Jack's leg, and dragged him off the bench. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. 270 “Curse that boy!” He chuckled and stomped the water. ‘Why, what have I said?’ ‘You said to me my name. Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy. ” He woke the glassy water to swirling activity again, and made the deep-blue shapes below writhe and shiver.
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