’ ‘But you don’t look anything like her,’ burst out Mrs Ibstock. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas. "Leave us, Mrs. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. She was interested by the swearing of the witnesses. He wondered if these abnormal mental activities presaged illness.
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