“One can’t tell. "Come to my arms, Thames! Oh! dear! Oh! dear!" To repeat the questions and congratulations which now ensued, or describe the extravagant joy of the carpenter, who, after he had hugged his adopted son to his breast with such warmth as almost to squeeze the breath from his body, capered around the room, threw his wig into the empty fire-grate, and committed various other fantastic actions, in order to get rid of his superfluous satisfaction—to describe the scarcely less extravagant raptures of his spouse, or the more subdued, but not less heartfelt delight of Winifred, would be a needless task, as it must occur to every one's imagination. And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true. “What a gloomy person you are!” she murmured. "We mustn't disturb the patient. O God! O God!" And he appeared convulsed with agony. “Heavens!” exclaimed Ann Veronica, with extraordinary passion. “Where to?” he asked, as the hansom drove up.
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