"O God!" he exclaimed, "I am severely punished. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. ‘I want a word with you, my lad. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. He was perhaps forty-five years of age. He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate.
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