The Last of the De Mullins: A Play Without a Preface

by St. John Hankin

MRS. CLOUSTON

Of course not Hester. Still, I think he goes to the opposite extreme. And he really is quite abnormally plain. Then there was that Mr. Snood, who was curate when I was down last year. The man with the very red hands. (These acid comments are too much for Hester, who flounces out angrily. Mrs. Clouston looks up for a moment, wondering what is the meaning of this sudden disappearance. Then continues unmoved.) I’m afraid the clergy aren’t what they were in our young days, Jane.