But that her opinion was sincere is not to be doubted.

She had, as a matter of fact, gone to the pantomime, leaving the patient under the immediate eye of his son, Guy Oscard.
The temporary nurse was sitting in a cretonne-covered armchair, with a book of travel on his knee, and thoughts of Millicent Chyne in his mind.
The astute have no doubt discovered ere this that the mind of Mr.Guy Oscard was a piece of mental mechanism more noticeable for solidity of structure than brilliancy or rapidity of execution.

Thoughts and ideas and principles had a strange way of getting mixed up with the machinery, and sticking there.

Guy Oscard had, for instance, concluded some years before that the Winchester rifle was, as he termed it, "no go"; and if the Pope of Rome and the patentee of the firearm in question had crossed Europe upon their bended knees to persuade him to use a Winchester rifle, he would have received them with a pleasant smile and an offer of refreshment.

He would have listened to their arguments with that patience of manner which characterises men of large stature, and for the rest of his days he would have continued to follow big game with an "Express" double-barrelled rifle as heretofore.