Wood. What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips. THIS, this glissade, would be damned scoundrelism. "I want to speak to Edgeworth Bess myself. She had animated dark blue-gray eyes under her fine eyebrows, and dark brown hair that rolled back simply and effectively from her broad low forehead. Aunt and niece regarded each other silently. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. Wood's famous 'prentice?" "What apprentice?" asked the stranger, in surprise.
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