Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. "Enough," said Jack, recovering his composure. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off. Ain’t enough as I’ve got militiamen quartered on me this se’ennight, lazing about all day, eating me out of house and home and drinking my liquor into the bargain. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork.
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