The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. Wild in my presence! He's the right-hand of the community! We could do nothing without him!" "We!" repeated Wood, significantly. John picked it up and put it in her hands. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. Suspicion was in his face. She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders. Ennison reeled, and almost fell. She contrived to break down the barriers of shyness at last in one direction, and talked one night of love and the facts of love with Miss Miniver.
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