And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. Something, then, to appease the wrath of God; something to blunt this persistent agony. Tears sprang to her eyes. One of her duties, after she had been taught to read, had been to read aloud after breakfast and before going to bed. The villagers were thronging to church. “Confound sex from first to last!” said Ann Veronica. She stood 218 there, broken bottle still in hand. Their laughter, together with the agonized yowling of the dog, drew a circle of wondering natives; and at length McClintock himself came over to see what the racket was about. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided.
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