"Egad!" exclaimed Wood, "you've hit the right nail on the head, anyhow. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. “I should like you to come here,” she said. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. Pramlay lived for amenities and the mellowed surfaces of things. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. "So long as it is open and above board. ‘Speak, then. ‘From the convent, where else?’ ‘It does not strike me that you can possibly have been in a convent. It just feels 122 right! You know it does! Don’t say no.
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