With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. Wood again made his appearance in a more composed frame of mind, and, at his daughter's earnest solicitation, was induced to partake of some refreshment. " "But they are everything to me," cried Jack, stooping to pick them up. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech.
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