‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship. "That gown is getting shabby. And how comes his cloak on this knave's shoulders?" "It is his cloak, of a surety," returned Rowland "Harkye, sirrah," continued he, haughtily interrogating Wood; "where is the person from whom you received this mantle?" "Throttling a man isn't the way to make him answer questions," replied the carpenter, doggedly. Very well, I give up. I am not a madman, or a pauper, or even an unreasonable person. "You think our sex has no feeling, I suppose, Sir," cried Mrs.
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