"Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. ‘I thought as how it couldn’t do no harm, and as it turns out, it done me a bit of good. . This was automatically rather than thoughtfully done; habit. It’s just to feel—one owns one’s self. Spurling and Marvel rose too. . . It was a dull, foggy day, and the atmosphere was so thick and heavy, that, at eight o'clock, the curious who arrived near the prison could scarcely discern the tower of St. ‘And you know, my dear, I do think you must make up your mind to beard this wretched grandfather of yours. His figure was tall and commanding, and the expression of his countenance (though somewhat disturbed by his recent exertion) was resolute and stern. But oh, how weary I am! I know.
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