“I don’t want you to do it, to go on talking to me. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. "Your sympathy is being wasted. I'm neither an infidel nor an agnostic, so I'll content myself by saying that the hand of God is in this somewhere. " "Sir!" exclaimed Winifred.
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