He glanced out of the window, looked back at the major and grasped the handle of the door. Don’t stand gawping, man. “Election be hanged!” he exclaimed. There, after protestations of friendliness and helpfulness that were almost ardent, he mounted a little clumsily and rode off at an amiable pace, looking his best, making a leg with his riding gaiters, smiling and saluting, while Ann Veronica turned northward and so came to Micklechesil. Never in this world! Let the hotel people take care of him; it's their affair. CHAPTER XIII. ” “Don’t say that,” Sydney begged. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. Occasionally the canvas snapped as the wind veered slightly.
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