Are you paid ?' 'I am,' said the very human apostle of fair craft, taking the coin.

'I'm paid a thousand times, and we'll close that account.

It shall live on my watch-chain; and you're an angel, Maisie.' 'I'm very cramped, and I'm feeling a little cold.

Good gracious! the cloak is all white, and so is your moustache! I never knew it was so chilly.' A light frost lay white on the shoulder of Dick's ulster.

He, too, had forgotten the state of the weather.