"I'll not believe it. \"I told you he likes you!\" She whispered hotly into Lucy's ear. "Where's Thames?" he hastily inquired. "I can't say I did," replied Wood, somewhat reluctantly; "what with the confusion incident to the storm, and the subsequent press of business, I put it off till it was too late. Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected. The place pulsed with music too loud to converse above. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. He got out of the car and lifted her from the convertible before she could open the door. Some man! And to conclude it all was the figure of her father in the doorway, giving her a last chance, his hat in one hand, his umbrella in the other, shaken at her to emphasize his point. You might have spared yourself many useless journeys and disappointments, and us a good deal of anxiety. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said.
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