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. "The door's open, and the room empty. From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin. Her neck was smeared with red and remorse flooded him. He left his companion in the midst of a glowing eulogy of Bastien Leparge, and boldly intercepted his hostess as she moved from one group to join another. “Tiffany’s?” He looked at her comically. . Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. Directly in range stood the strange young man, although he was at the far side of the loft. “I can’t believe it. He was a handsome man, and Lucy could see the strong resemblance of John to him.
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