The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. "Who's that queer cove in the full-bottomed wig?" "Attend to me, sirrah," rejoined Wild, sternly. Wood, who appeared to be collecting her energies for a terrible explosion, "in the hope that they may prove acceptable. ’ Gerald raised his brows. It mattered not whether she flunked the year as she would soon be gone.
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