"What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. Without stopping to inquire into the cause of their mirth, or even to ask the names of his guests, the worthy carpenter shook hands with the one-eyed chapmen, slapped Mr. ‘That’s right, you bone idle do-nothings. \" He said. When they started getting on each other’s nerves, she blamed herself at first. The chain, which had been partially cut through, snapped near the staple. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. He hated himself a little for it. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other.
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