And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. She was not altogether surprised when she found a deer, gutted of its entrails and strung with a garland of flowers, on the cave’s doorstep one humid summer morning. There was all the knavery, and more than all the drollery of a Spanish picaroon in the laughing eyes of the English apprentice; and, with a little more warmth and sunniness of skin on the side of the latter, the resemblance between them would have been complete. Bête, she told herself fiercely. Have you anything to ask me?” Ann Veronica readjusted her mind hastily.
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