“Who’s your violin teacher?” He asked. A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. "You'll not be offended, I hope," returned Wood, drily, "if I say that your voice, your manner, and, above all, your very extraordinary way of laughing, put me strangely in mind of one of the 'droll dogs,' (as you term them,) who helped to perpetrate the outrage I've just described. She was at the end of girlhood and on the eve of a woman’s crowning experience. ’ He laughed. She had seen a man’s head steal out for a moment and draw the curtains a little closer. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. " A moment afterwards, they quitted the house.
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