’ For my own part I go about loving. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. Wood to a seat within it, immediately pushed from land. . ’ ‘Yes, but I’m hanged if I see what your game is. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. On searching the grounds, we found two suspicious-looking fellows in the garden, and had scarcely secured them, when your mother's cries summoned us hither, just in time to preserve her.
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