She stared at him. “Your father is in the study and wishes to speak to you. He had studied alchemy and astronomy, was a capable painter, and even wrote music. Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park.
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