If it were possible for a man to faint, I should have thought I was going to do so.

At first I thought of going home, taking the hounds away too; then I thought of going myself and leaving the hounds; then I thought if I left the hounds it would only make the sinful scaramouch more outrageous, and I should be sitting on pins and needles till they came home, thinking how he was crashing among them.

Next I thought of drawing all the unlikely places in the country, and making a blank day of it.

Then I thought that would only be like cutting off my nose to spite my face.

Then I didn't know what on earth to do.