"I hope she will have good taste enough to choose my boy." "I hope so too, I am sure," said the Doctor.

"But we must not be very furious if she don't.

Little Cecil Mayford is both handsomer and cleverer than Sam.

We must not forget that, you know." That evening was the first thoroughly unhappy evening, I think, that Sam ever passed in his life.

I am inclined to imagine that his digestion was out of order.