His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. With a little more meat on him, he would be handsome. She licked his neck, which put him over the top. ‘You are not sympathique in the very least. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. To her consternation, the sound drew her great-aunt’s attention and she threw out a hand. I’ve never seen her quite so sure of herself. ” “It was an inspiration—your speaking to him?” “I felt impudent. “No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing.
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