Sir John gave his order, deliberately stumbling now and then over a word, and anglicizing others. Then, very awkwardly, he took a stool and placed it at the end of Ann Veronica’s table, and sat down. Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord. He returned her to her door at a decent hour, well before 10:00. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. It feels like it. The Pursuit 425 XXV. " "It wouldn't surprise me if he did," remarked Griffin.
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