She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. And girls and women, perhaps, are different. And for me there is only one treasure-house. God is a jealous God, and He turned upon me relentlessly. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. And, if I'd my own way, I'd drown 'em all like a litter o' puppies. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. She changed into a halter top and a pair of tight jeans herself, and let Lucy brush her long, glossy hair as they talked about mascara, schoolwork, and boys.
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