She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. What a pig she was. It's a thousand pities to hang so pretty a fellow. “Ass!” he went on, still warming. ‘Did she call you that?’ asked Lucilla, amused. ’ ‘This is what you say of him? Me, I find he is growling all the time like a dog. Have you ever heard the name of Meysey Hill?” “Meysey Hill?” He repeated it after her, and she knew at once from his tone and his quick glance into her face that the name possessed some significance for him.
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