” “Poor you!” said Ann Veronica. And, decently as he could, McClintock was giving the man the boot. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. “I knew that you waited at the farmhouse. Martin came to the stage from his section, his own violin in hand. He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead. The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. They can’t help seeing things in the way they do.
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