Terence, meanwhile, who had followed him, did not remain silent, but recapitulated his story, for the benefit of Mrs. I have never told you so, or Sydney, but I can sing—rather well. “He is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him. Pipes were lighted; and Mr. Stanley regarded his neighbor’s clean-shaven face almost warily. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that this was the playing of a soul in damnation. “Ugh!” she said. ” Manning tapped with his racket on the turf through some moments of silence.
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