She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. " "Oh Heavens!" cried Jack, driven to his wits' end. A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him. But the besetting evil of the place, and that which drew down the severest censures of the writers above-mentioned, was that this spot,—which of all others should have been most free from such intrusion—was made a public exhibition. "What a wonderful colour!" she exclaimed. CHAPTER VIII. 92 She did not notice the police car sitting near the Beck house until they were pulling into the driveway. For nearly thirty years he had lived here in contented loneliness; then youth had to come and fill him with discontent.
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