Ann Veronica watched her face, vaguely sympathizing with her, vaguely disliking her physical insufficiency and her convulsive movements, and the fine eyebrows were knit with a faint perplexity. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. She infused menace into her voice. "Put down your burthen, monster!" shouted Wood, pointing an immense blunderbuss at him. \"He's good-looking. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers.
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