CHAPTER XXXV

McCLINTOCK READS TENNYSON Miss Lowell, schoolmarm, sat in the parlour of her boarding house and corrected spelling papers. Across the lamplit table from her was Hugh McClintock. He was browsing through a volume of poems written by the man who had been for two decades and still was the world’s most popular philosopher of progress. The book was Vicky’s, and she handed it to him with a word of youth’s extravagant praise. “I think he’s the greatest poet that ever lived.” Hugh smiled. “He’ll have to step some.” He menti…