The man himself was not a pleasant object. She had the same sharp nose—which, indeed, only Ann Veronica, of all the family, had escaped. He might have supposed the fellow would be eager to be rid of the tale, for that he might have longer to enjoy the amenities of the Triumphal Chariot where the meeting had been appointed. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. He hung precariously on the ragged edge, but he hung there.
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