‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. She was particularly charmed by his theory of friendship. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. He remained listening attentively. " And thus their domesticity at McClintock's began—with the tubbing of a stray yellow dog. “My arrival appears to be opportune,” he said stiffly. " "You might have added 'then'," said Miss Spurlock, drily.
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