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“How splendid! You must go, Billy. Do all the boys mind you?” Jean hid a queer little smile that she could not repress. ‘The antlered monarch of the waste.
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Conrad
But May Nell was not to be comforted, till that evening when she composed a wonderful ode to “The Wreck of the Fair Ellen.” As the party, now restored to composure, left the garden, Mrs. Mifsud remarked with her usual aptness, “I occasionally experience premonitions, Mrs. Wopp, that St. Elmo will some day attain celebrity as a clairvoyant.” Involved and intricate variations of “Holy smoke!” made the air sulphureous as a swaying piece of wire caught his shoulder and tore a large gash in his shirt. Nell’s answer was somehow strangely muffled..
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