"No, no, let him alone," interposed Wood. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. The pistol was lowered slightly. You may enjoy your pride, your arrogance—in a coffin. He sounds to me like a soldier of fortune. ’ ‘Yes, she will. Sir John once more looked around him. Cold drops stood upon Wood's brow, as he encountered this obstacle. No one seeing you together could doubt that she is your granddaughter. I know something about men. The room behind was another small antechamber, presumably linking the back rooms. Wood—and after him came his daughter. Capes would come to these teas; he evidently liked to come, and he would appear in the doorway of the preparation-room, a pleasing note of shyness in his manner, hovering for an invitation.
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