“I do not suppose he will be home till late. Last week. “I don’t know how to prove myself to you, John. I tried to jump, but he increased the speed. Pull yourself together, Annabel! I must have the truth. Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. It isn’t sentiment but it’s horse sense.
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