Cathy had not even noticed that she herself was wet and trailing water everywhere. "Thank Heaven!" she gasped. It must be sent home this evening. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. Wood, now more buxom and more gorgeously arrayed than ever,—as well as a young and beautiful female, in whom he was at no loss to recognise the carpenter's daughter. She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. Nevertheless, she was no fool, and she knew that they could easily break loose and cause her to fall.
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