" "On no account," rejoined Wood peremptorily. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. Wanted her out of the way because he had been afraid of her, afraid of himself! He, at fifty-four! Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling. But I liked to say it. John’s demeanor shifted. He suddenly realized that he could not keep you for ever in this part of the world; so he sends you to your aunt.
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