If Miss Charvill should take it into her head to dash off on some foolish errand, go with her by all means. First, I went to Country Tom's, the Goat, in Long Lane. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. “It has been very kind of you to see me, but I don’t want to sit and talk and use your time any longer. ‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it. It felt too good.
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