“Why don’t you finish and go?” said the rigid figure, evidently in a state of painfully suppressed rage. “All you’ve got to do is to fix the hour hand on its axle. You’re simply humbugging⁠—”

“Certainly, sir⁠—one minute more. I overlooked⁠—” and Mr. Henfrey finished and went.

But he went feeling excessively annoyed. “Damn it!” said Mr. Henfrey to himself, trudging down the village through the thawing snow; “a man must do a clock at times, surely.”

And again, “Can’t a man look at you?⁠—Ugly!”

And yet again, “Seemingly not. If the police was wanting you you couldn’t be more wropped and bandaged.”