“Boy with Bike ‘IT’S A PRETTY go,’ said Jas Bowels with relish, ‘and that’s the only possible thing to say, a pretty go. I’ve screwed the gentleman down in it and that’s a fact.’ He stood on the cobbles of the mews, a splendid figure in black fancy dress. His frock coat was a fraction longer than anyone else could have worn it without absurdity, but on him, his rippling white hair giving him dignity, it was superb. He stroked his good silk hat, not too shiny nor aggressively new, but strong and ...solid and sad-looking, with a soft hand. ‘I can see your eyes on me, Mr Luke,’ he said, smiling at Charlie with fatherly tolerance. ‘I call these me Mourning Glory. It’s a pun of a kind, I daresay. It comforts the bereaved, you know; not the joke, the garments.’ The plain-clothes man, who looked more grief-stricken than any of the small male chorus of part-time mutes who busied themselves about the solid horse hearse which they had just trundled out of its coach-house, laughed bitterly.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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