“He’s a Fellow of the Royal Society, and he can’t be much over thirty,” said Miss Klegg. . Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. That was the glorious if bewildering truth. She attacked me with a carving-knife, and, when I had disarmed her, the jade bit off a couple of fingers from my left hand. Blood dripped down one side of her forehead. . She drew her naked arms around herself. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head.
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