‘That was one of my own clever stories. Their laughter, together with the agonized yowling of the dog, drew a circle of wondering natives; and at length McClintock himself came over to see what the racket was about. Suddenly she understood. “It isn’t quite that we’re toys. An admirable alternative presented itself and she sighed, spreading her hands. " "No. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. The cheating of the boys in the stores ceased. Oh God! pardon me.
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