“C. Q.”; or, In the Wireless House
and a Marconi man! Yet she knew which she would have taken had the way been open to her—even though he had red hair, a pub nose, and freckles! The “way of a man with a maid”? Rather, if you please, the way of a maid with a man! Who can explain the idiosyncrasies,—— the charming irrationalities of woman's gift for unnatural selection?
So Mrs. Trevelyan, with a lingering look at Micky lying hot and flushed in the noonday sun quietly closed the door of the wireless house and hurried back to the boat deck, fearful lest she should meet Cosmo Graeme and not know what to say to him.
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