" The head turnkey, in all probability, would have obeyed. He waited for an instant, wasting an encouraging smile in the imperfect light, and then shut the doors of the van, leaving the women in darkness. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. "Perhaps," replied Wood, doubtfully. " "Who cares if we do?" retorted Sheppard, with a look of defiance. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse.
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