" "I should like a little of that plum-tart," said Mrs. "And there you're right, you may dipind, marm," observed Terence. "But, though the storm has spared him, I will not. Manning regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and stroked his mustache. Without preamble, in a voice of extreme exasperation, he demanded, ‘Now what the devil’s to do? What in God’s name do you mean by sending Gerald such a ridiculous letter? Never read anything half as crazy. A lean young man in spectacles pursued her for some time, crying “Courage! Courage!” Somebody threw a dab of mud at her, and some of it got down her neck. He became really companionable, discussed the new story he had in mind, and asked some questions about colour.
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