But I don't understand her; she's over my head. Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff. "And so this is a diamond," added he, contemplating the brilliant from the hollow of his hand: "it does sparkle almost as brightly as your ogles. This vile hovering to catch a man’s eye!. But I must—I ought—” “I MUST talk about this. He's nice. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. I thank God for the beauty you love and the faults you love. John Sheppard.