Her brown curls were pulled tight in a severe chignon. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. "What's the matter, father!" continued the new-comer, addressing Wood. And I'll answer for it, she'll never say a syllable to annoy you again. “You know of no one likely to have had a grudge against this man?” he asked.
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