"I am Owen Wood, at your service. “And let us have a talk about this—some other time. Anna, who had sung the first verse of her song, looked around the house, a little surprised at the absence of the applause which had never yet failed her. She had not thought anything could equal her despair at that moment. He fancied that when they had had time to reflect, they would regret it still more. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. Until the age of five she adored him.
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