Mr. ” It was, Ann Veronica felt, at once absurd and extraordinarily right. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. I suppose the phrase—the word—originally meant a man who searched for food on the beach. Perhaps because I don’t know. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. She lifted the sheet and gestured for him to join her. If you live, well and good; if you die, well and good. Eight per cent. "Oh! you men! you men! Once get a thing into your head, and nothing will beat it out.
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