I will not fatigue you with them.

Good-morning." He bowed again, for perhaps the twentieth time; lingered a moment at the threshold; and then retired, closing the door softly after him.
My father rubbbed his head all over, and gave a great yawn of satisfaction.
"I am so much obliged to you, sir," I said, eagerly.
"What for ?" "For having bought those tickets.

It was very kind of you." "Hold your tongue.

I hate to be thanked," snarled he, and plunged back again into his books and papers.
Once more the studious silence in the room--once more the rustling leaf and scratching pen, which only made the stillness seem more still, within and without.
"I beg your pardons," murmured the voice of the little Chevalier.
I turned, and saw him peeping through the half-open door.

He looked more wistful than ever, and twisted the handle nervously between his fingers.
My father frowned, and muttered something between his teeth.