‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’ She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side. “That was a moment of madness,” she said. All men are bloody fucking hypocrites. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. She was supposed to be reading at home, and after breakfast she strolled into the vegetable garden, and having taken up a position upon the staging of a disused greenhouse that had the double advantage of being hidden from the windows of the house and secure from the sudden appearance of any one, she resumed the reading of Mr. A bumper round, gentlemen. You seem to want this chap out of Canton. She lit the cigarette with a tiny Kelly green drugstore lighter. Show him no quarter, Poll. Her mother missed writing for a week, and then she wrote in an unusual key.
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