She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. "By Heaven!" cried he in a tone of surprise, "you have an infant there?" "To be sure I have," replied Wood, angrily; for, finding that the intentions of the stranger were pacific, so far as he was concerned, he thought he might safely venture on a slight display of spirit. If only one might open the shutters and let in the light. He regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day. She is like some character out of Phra the Phoenician: she's been buried for thirty years and just been excavated. The effort of self-repression cost him a sob. This time she feinted as his point came up to deflect her own, and disengaging, passed under and cut at his cheek.
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