The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. And, decently as he could, McClintock was giving the man the boot. You are right. She accepted his rejoinder with a brief nod. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. “I have had adventures—oh, more than one, I can assure you. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. “We should get out of here. Wood, was much better furnished with eatables than might have been expected, and boasted a loaf, a knuckle of ham, a meat-pie, and a flask of wine.
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