There was nothing but coal around them.

A sort of emotion kept them silent; even Simon Ford restrained himself.

His joy overflowed, not in long phrases, but in short ejaculations.
It was perhaps imprudent to venture so far into the crypt.

Pooh! they never thought of how they were to get back.
The gallery was practicable, not very winding.

They met with no noxious exhalations, nor did any chasm bar the path.