" "What motive can you have for so vile a deed?" asked Mrs. Yet an indiscriminating, wrong-headed world gave such fellows all sorts of distinctions. It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. The man could put a bullet through her before she could hope to reach any one of them. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. ’ ‘Nonsense, it’ll give Pottiswick something genuine to complain about,’ said Gerald cheerfully, moving to the edge of the trees. ‘She wants you.
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