" "And what might that be?" "Will McClintock take us both?" "You took that chance. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. ” They were in the elder Widgett girl’s bedroom; Hetty was laid up, she said, with a sprained ankle, and a miscellaneous party was gossiping away her tedium. He was a man tout à fait capable, this Gerald. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. “I suppose, Vee, you don’t see much of those Widgetts now?” “I go in and talk to Constance sometimes. “Endless.
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