"Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. He tired of his popcorn and placed it under his seat. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. There was a strange quality of steel in this pretty creature. In mailing the tales he had not enclosed return postage or the equivalent in money. “Nothing,” said Ann Veronica, and stared over her shoulder out of the window. Ann Veronica looked bright and a little elated, and she disregarded her father’s invitation to be seated. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom.
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