Their colloquy was ended abruptly by the apparition of Miss Klegg at the further door. It’s a sort of blacklegging to want to have a life of one’s own. ‘Hilary, you must stop referring to mademoiselle as “she”. The atmosphere at dinner was not propitious. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. "Did you ever hear me whine?" "No," admitted McClintock "You've no objection to my dropping in again later, after your guests go?" "No. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face.
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