“Getting exacting—are you?” He addressed the inward remark both to himself and to his pipe. “Getting like an old woman! Drop it. The boy has enough writing to do.” He relit his pipe, gazed at the sky and saw that it was very blue. Also, he became aware of Miss Merris’s car standing in the yard, and looking as dusty and as deplorable as a car could look. She was bending over the open dickey; she was lifting something out; old Pybus saw her face, and his attention was arrested by its sadness, the sadness as of some i…
Reader notes
Loading reader notes…