She paused for a moment. It was a mass of knick-knacks. ‘The general himself?’ ‘How shall I get my inheritance if the general will believe that pig?’ ‘Do wish you wouldn’t keep on calling him a pig,’ Martha begged. " "Yes, there was one," observed Ireton. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. He was always deceived by these rustlings which promised wind and seldom fulfilled that promise. We struggle against it at first, but in the end we have to submit.
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