“You see, her sister is married to Ferringhall, isn’t she? and she herself must be drawing no end of a good screw here. The boss says to me: 'Higg, here's a guy we want back. My late husband, I mean. Too much blood has been shed already. It would give me great pleasure if you would dine with me somewhere first. But she perceived that to tell Manning of her Ramage adventures as they had happened would be like tarring figures upon a water-color. You say you need a man. ‘My wife would say she is English a little. That's a queer yarn. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently.
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