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’ ‘Yes, but if it is only we that know, it is of no use at all to me. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. "You play?" asked McClintock, who was sorting the rolls. She wished she had not stood up. Then the foremost bowed and passed on. You and I. He called it "The Man Who Could Not Go Home. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat.
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