Mr. Marks set his jaw obstinately.
“Jest as you say. But w’en hentire strangers takes to divin’ hoff porch railin’s—at that time o’ night!—hall Hi feel Hi can say his: hit may be the carefree, heasy manners of the rich, but it hain’t pretty be’aviour!”
Howard guided him out, with slight but positive shoves.
“That will do, officer. I’ve given you the facts. Make your report in accordance with them.”
“Hall right, sir,” offendedly. On the porch he paused to find out the hour. Ere replacing the watch in his pocket he waved it on its cherry loop before Howard’s eyes.
“Hi see you’re hadmirin’ o’ this,” he began.
“Not at all,” curtly. Howard turned his back. Constable Marks gave every sign of a sensitive man under acute insult.
“Ho, very well!” he said at last, with great dignity, not unmixed with contempt. “There’s some as will be ’aughty to their gryve.” With this crushing rebuke he withdrew.
