“Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. She was supposed to be lifeless; but she survived the accident, though she never regained her strength. "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. It will be hot work, but it must be done at once. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. Brown or Jones, I dare say. In any case, there was no doing anything on a Sunday and Brewis Charvill, his main quarry, had gone out of town unexpectedly.
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