I—well, I lost my temper. "They imagine their work is done. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair. “At a boarding-house?” he gasped. Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative. ” “It is for your good—your good only I am thinking,” he declared. Uttering a few inarticulate ejaculations,—for he was completely out of breath,— the fugitive placed a bundle in the arms of the carpenter, and, regardless of the consternation he excited in the breast of that personage, who was almost stupified with astonishment, he began to divest himself of a heavy horseman's cloak, which he threw over Wood's shoulder, and, drawing his sword, seemed to listen intently for the approach of his pursuers.
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