The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. “For better or worse. ” Manning tapped with his racket on the turf through some moments of silence. ‘Don’t even think of it,’ warned Gerald, in the voice generally reserved for his men. The blades on the top spun faster and faster. “Ruin me? Think of me with fondness? Are you dying of cancer or something?” He demanded. She wanted to take him in her arms and hush him, but she sat perfectly still. Though the starling was more than two feet above the level of the water, he alighted with his little charge—which he had never for an instant quitted—in safety upon it.
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