Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. Sheppard, distractedly. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. Having secured this implement, he burst from his conductor, and, leaping into the hatch, as clowns generally spring into the clockfaces, when in pursuit of harlequin in the pantomime,—that is, back foremost,— broke into a fit of loud and derisive laughter, kicking his heels merrily all the time against the boards. I've seen many a clever cracksman, but never one like him. “Have you ever been to the opera, Ann Veronica?” said Ramage. ’ ‘In any event,’ Gerald told her, with a grin, ‘I can’t marry this one. She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck.
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