” “Please tell me why?” she asked. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. ” “I’ll frame it—when I get it. Who is it?” The man came a little further into the room. "You soon shall," rejoined Sheppard. I'd a good many things to say to you, besides—but you've put them all out of my head. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers.
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