“I have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive. I completed it according to the directions, you see, and it was a beautiful machine, a triangle sort of, with a steering column I built out of an old wheelbarrow and a hubcap. Jiggle-joggle, jiggle-joggle…! For each pause she was grateful. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. As the body was borne to the house in the arms of the farming-men, Mr. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London.
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