Mr.Gavel watched in speechless rage.

Old Holly, the carrier, suggested that there was no need to give up hope of the horses.

They might turn up yet before dark.
Boats came down the canal at all hours of the day.
"Then why couldn't you have waited and given 'em a chance ?" foamed the proprietor; and commanding Holly to turn the empty wagon and follow, he strode off in the direction of the Wharf.

The afternoon was hot.
His furred coat oppressed him; his shoes--of patent leather, bought ready-made--pinched his feet.

On the road he came to a public-house, entered, and gulped down two "goes" of whisky.