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"Liddy, Liddy," she whispered, "who is that man?" But Lydia was too much engrossed with her spoiled apron to answer this question, and she replied with, "Marm may I g'wout; I've spilt the ink all over my apron." Permission, of course, was granted, and as the girl who sat next knew nothing of the stranger, Mrs. Perkins began to think she might just as well have staid at home and finished her shoes.
At last there was surcease of Breede. "Have 'em ready in the morning," he directed, referring to the letters he had dictated. "G'wout 'n' 'muse yourself when you get time," he added hospitably. "Now I got to hobble to my room. If you see any women outside, tell 'em g'wan downstairs if they don't want to hear me." He stood balanced on one foot, a stout cane in either hand.
Such a thing to happen to me the pure, decent woman! G'wout!" This, the imperative of the verb to retire, was hurtled at the tell-tale, who, presuming on her services, had incautiously left the covert of the counter, and had laid a sticky hand on her mother's skirts. "Only that some was praying for me," pursued Mrs.
He yawned without dislodging the cigarette. "Gentleman wants to g'wout." Paul vanished. Nap had already leaped to a seat in the red car. He had learned what those things were for. Paul reappeared, trim in leathern cap, well-fitting Norfolk jacket and shining puttees. "Never know he only had on an undershirt," thought Bean, struck by this swiftly devised effect of correct dressing.
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