"Every inch of it," replied the woollen-draper. "It's a great world," was the manager's greeting. To his astonishment and delight it yielded to the pressure, toppled over the ledge, and sank. “It’s my fault. But to confess about Gerald— no, a thousand times. ‘So it would appear. ’ For a moment he looked daunted. As if we didn’t know! The practical trouble is our ages. Wood, however, was too much excited to attend to the caution. He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. Sometimes she missed her cue and nodded affirmatively when the gesture should have been the reverse; and Prudence would send her a sharp glance of disapproval. The man’s passion was infectious.
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