And probably the girl would wear herself out, too. “Tell your sister she was right to shoot, quite right. ” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. He wished he had the time to solve this riddle, for it was a riddle, and four-square besides. Instead, he could not get beyond these minor details—why she wore the dress, whence she had come, and whither she was bound. And, without another word, he seized the table with both hands, and upset it; scattering plates, dishes, bottles, jugs, and glasses far and wide.
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