“You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman. He rose, steadied himself, then walked out of the dining room. Immediately the soldiers of the major will come from the gate. “Are you a special sort of clergyman,” she said, after a pause, and looking down her nose at him, “or do you go to the Universities?” “Oh!” he said, profoundly. He had an appointment in Jersey, you know, after he left the army. She could feel Michelle’s nervousness leaching into her spine. “I suppose you know I like you tremendously?” he pursued. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. That's one of the troubles with young folks: they take themselves so seriously.
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