Love was joy, and joyous she was when alone. They were childless and servantless, and they had reduced simple living to the finest of fine arts. ’ ‘But me orders, sir? Are we to—’ ‘Gad, but that’s her,’ interrupted Roding suddenly. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living. “I do hope that I shall be able to make it up to you.
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