"Tell me that, and I will believe you. But never mind that," said McClintock grinning as he drew the dish of bread-fruit toward him. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. ‘Move, you. It consisted of a close jerkin of brown frieze, ornamented with a triple row of brass buttons; loose Dutch slops, made very wide in the seat and very tight at the knees; red stockings with black clocks, and a fur cap. She hadn't measured up; she had been stupid; she hadn't known how to make love. Is there anything you'd like?" "Books.
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