One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. If I had been your companion only, and not your master, I might very well have been content to accept you for what you seem. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. Tell Lucy about the time you were nine years old and blew up the house, John. It was a moment of breathless interest to all engaged in the attempt. Wood's house at Dollis Hill on Tuesday'—that's two days ago,—'hasn't been heard of since.
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