"See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. Help! help!" But her cries were unheeded. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. This young man did not drink because he sought the false happiness that lured men to the bottle. "I've a good mind not to speak to you again, Sir!" cried Winifred, with difficulty repressing a tear of vexation; "you've acted unfairly. She had made her first fight for dignity and freedom as a grown-up and independent Person, and this was how the universe had treated her.
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