You see, the tide goes out pretty fur here and--" "Don't I know it?
Son, I've been waitin' thirty odd year for that smell and here 'tis at last.

Drive slow and let me fill up on it.

Just blow that--that Snowstorm of yours the other way for a spell, won't you?
Thanks." The request to be driven slow was so superfluous that Mr.Lumley paid no attention to it.

He puffed industriously at the Snowflake and watched his companion, who, leaning forward on the seat, was gazing out at the town and the bay beyond it.

The "depot hill" is not as high as Whittaker's Hill, but the view is almost as extensive.
"Excuse me, Mister," observed Gabe, after an interval, "but you ain't said where you're goin'." The passenger came out of his day dream with a start.
"Why, that's right!" he exclaimed.