“You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. Like a hare closely pressed, Jack attempted to double, but the device only brought him nearer his foes, who were crossing the field in every direction, and rending the air with their shouts. Yes, this was a little better. “You’d have to think how to get in between his bones.
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