‘I am sorry to hear of your misfortunes. "These writer chaps are queer birds. A feeling of inexplicable awe crept over the carpenter as the sounds died away. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. The shouts, yells, and groans which they uttered, and which were echoed by the concourse in the rear, were perfectly frightful. As a net result she had come to think of all married people much as one thinks of insects that have lost their wings, and of her sisters as new hatched creatures who had scarcely for a moment had wings. He too, when she had disappeared, called a carriage.
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