82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. ‘I just don’t understand you, Gerald. I keep on thinking of little details and aspects of your voice, your eyes, the way you walk, the way your hair goes back from the side of your forehead. She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour. The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master. "And now, Sir," he said, preparing to take his departure, "will you add to the obligation already conferred by informing me where I can meet with Mr. Lucy? Come 177 on out.
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