She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. This he accomplished by holding the chain that connected them firmly between his teeth, and squeezing his fingers as closely together as possible, succeeded in drawing his wrists through the manacles. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. “Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically. Her eye wandered quickly over that riotous and disorderly assemblage, until it settled upon one group more riotous and disorderly than the rest, of which her son formed the principal figure. This time there wasn't any doubt. You know as well as I do that it was accident.
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