The hurricane had now reached its climax. Quite trying of him not to be there when he is wanted. With this view he struck off into a narrow street on the left, and soon entered a small alehouse, over the door of which hung the sign of the "Welsh Trumpeter. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—as he conceived—so far out of his course. Women never throw themselves into each other's arms; they calculate the distance and the damage perfectly. The joke of it is that he’s married to her now, and cuts me dead.
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