Vaguely she heard the distinctive sound of male voices as she saw Gosse dive towards the fateful pew. She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. Beethoven; he’s the best of them. If you’ve got anything to say, you must say it to your aunt—” “But look here, daddy!” He flapped the Times at her with an imperious gesture. You represented to us the immaculate Briton, the one Englishman who typified the Saxonism, if I may coin a word, of our race. ‘No mistaking you this time. He looked at her guiltily. Smith decidedly the plainest of the two. It was Jack, wasn’t it?’ ‘Aye, s-sir.
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