The Manor House, a Case for the Prevention of Cruelty Society

The story was certainly a case of making a silk purse out of a sow's ear. The real child started up before him, dancing like a ferret at the sight of his father's blood. Pum marching to the rhythm of the words, carried on toward branham. By their asservation, clive felt that he had got both truth and fiction safely under his control. All that remained was to put the true afternoon firmly out of his mind and rehearse the fictional one till he was word perfect in it.