There, after protestations of friendliness and helpfulness that were almost ardent, he mounted a little clumsily and rode off at an amiable pace, looking his best, making a leg with his riding gaiters, smiling and saluting, while Ann Veronica turned northward and so came to Micklechesil. His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner. ‘Is it worth it?’ he asked at last. She did most urgently desire to save her face in Morningside Park, and for long hours she could think of no way of putting it that would not be in the nature of unconditional admission of defeat. ‘Where was I? Oh yes. He stood with his hands in his pockets looking at Miss Klegg’s back.
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