"I am Owen Wood, at your service. Beyond was another door, on which was painted in black letters: MR. “My dear Miss Stanley, when I talked to you the other afternoon of work and politics and such-like things, my mind was all the time resenting it beyond measure. Oriental rugs adorned the sea of shiny hardwood floors, kept polished with an eye for detail that bordered on Japanese. Somebody to whom she would be necessary, who for days would have to depend upon her for the needs of life. Both carried packages of books and magazines. Unless—would he hide from them as he had hidden from her? It was a big house, he said. Wood. I am a physician first, which gives the man in me a secondary part.
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