Chapter 11 - (VERSO)

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somehow!”

“No, Mr. MacPherson,” said Aunt Olivia firmly, “that doesn’t cover the difficulty. I knew you would not understand. My ways are not your ways and I cannot make them over. For—you track mud in—and—and—you don’t care whether things are tidy or not.”

Poor Aunt Olivia had to be Aunt Olivia; if she were being burned at the stake I verily believe she would have dragged some grotesqueness into the tragedy of the moment.

“The devil!” said Mr. Malcolm MacPherson—not profanely or angrily, but as in sheer bewilderment. Then he added,