‘You were his daughter. His father spoke for him. But a middle-aged man like Ramage ought to know better than to draw out a girl, the daughter of a friend and neighbor. ” “Anna!” “It is true, dear. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. ’ Kimble’s eyes widened. Heaven alone knows why. Wood.
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