"I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. And it has been well for you that he imagines the child was drowned. So long as they're about, I'll always be rewriting them and wasting my time. He saw his father, calling to him from an icy white tunnel, beckoning to him. ” “That is another French custom,” he remarked, “which is not so agreeable. “It does not appear to me,” he said, stiffly, “to be an affair for jests. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms.
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