I've made money by it, and not lost.

And now, don't let me be bothered about it any more, if you and me are to keep friends." "I'm sure, Stephen," Mrs.Tadman remonstrated in a feebly plaintive tone, "I've no wish to bother you; there's nothing farther from my thoughts; but it's only natural that I should be anxious about a place where I've lived so many years.

Not but what I could get my living easy enough elsewhere, as you must know, Stephen, being able to turn my hand to almost anything." To this feeble protest Mr.Whitelaw vouchsafed no answer.

He had lighted his pipe by this time, and was smoking and staring at the fire with his usual stolid air--meditative, it might be, or only ruminant, like one of his own cattle.
But all through that night Mr.Whitelaw, who was not commonly a seer of visions or dreamer of dreams, had his slumbers disturbed by some unwonted perplexity of spirit.

His wife lay broad awake, thinking of that prolonged and piercing cry, which seemed to her, the more she meditated upon it, in have been a cry of anguish or of terror, and could not fail to notice this unusual disturbance of her husband's sleep.