I must tear myself away.

I wish you all ill-luck possible with those stitches." "Ah, is that you, Mr.Halloway?
I was wondering what kept Phebe so long in the window.

Good-morning, sir.

Good-morning, sir.

Pray, come in." And having, by a turn of his slow old head, discovered the young man standing just outside the window, Mr.Hardcastle came pompously forward, waving his hand in a grand way he had, that seemed to bespeak him always the proprietor, no matter in whose house he chanced to be.
"Thank you, Mr.Hardcastle, not this morning.