Yet every time she lost
sight of him, she was in terror until she saw him again.
She was alone on the small veranda facing the high-
road. She happened to glance toward the station; her
gaze became fixed, her body rigid, for, coming leisurely
and pompously toward the house, was General
Siddall, in the full panoply of his wonderful tailoring
and haberdashery. She thought of flight, but instantly
knew that flight was useless; the little general was not
there by accident. She waited, her rigidity giving her
a deceptive seeming of calm and even ease. He entered
the little yard, taking off his glossy hat and exposing
the rampant toupee. He smiled at her so slightly that
the angle of the needle-pointed mustaches and imperial
was not changed. The cold, expressionless, fishy eyes
simply looked at her.
``A delightful little house,'' said he, with a patronizing
glance around. ``May I sit down?''
She inclined her head.
``And you are looking well, charming,'' he went on,
and he seated himself and carefully planted his neat
boots side by side.
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