He put down his hat and umbrella, rested his hands on his hips, and regarded Ann Veronica firmly. “If any one should know——you should! He was your friend. . He never asked questions; he never addressed his companions; and frequently he took off his cap and wiped his forehead. Still, he was puzzled because McClintock had not spoken. Ann Veronica’s desire to laugh unrestrainedly was checked by the tremendous earnestness of his expression. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. You would be alarmed of how sulphurous it is, how sickeningly sweet. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound.
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