Never so happy as here.' Quite unmoved by this tender remark, Nan put on a pair of large, round-eyed glasses, saying in a matter-of-fact tone: 'Now I see it.

Only a splinter, and there it is.
'My hand is bleeding; won't you bind it up ?' asked Tom, wishing to prolong the situation.
'Nonsense; suck it.

Only take care of it tomorrow if you dissect.

Don't want any more blood-poisoning.' 'That was the only time you were kind to me.

Wish I'd lost my arm.' 'I wish you'd lost your head; it smells more like turpentine and kerosene than ever.