“What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. So the talk went on, and presently they were criticising novelists, and certain daring essays of Wilkins got their due share of attention, and then they were discussing the future of the theatre. " "The deuce he has!" cried Dump. "I am. It is dull—deadly dull. Then a light seemed to break in upon him. YOU did. ‘Dreadfully untidy, is it not? Can’t abide bare rooms. “It’s—private. I thought that he was dead. ToC London, at the period of this history, boasted only a single bridge.
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