Chilvern found the clothes, then returned, but couldn't find Smith.
The current had taken him down stream another mile.
So it might have gone on; had not the river been a tidal one (or worked on some peculiar principles, which Chilvern doesn't explain)—and, the stream changing, back brought Smith with it, and then he was happy,—only with a cold for ever after.
Mrs. Boodels being informed of the discussion through her ear-trumpet, said that losing a thimble was quite sufficient to justify any loss of patience.
The gentlemen present observe, that they have no doubt it is so, but they have had no experience.
Milburd thinks that the button off your collar, or, losing your stud, at the last moment, is the most trying thing.
Bella Cherton, after walking to the window several times and seeing no sign of fine weather, says, “I'll tell you what I consider most justifies loss of patience.”
“What?” we inquire.
Note. This sort of reply rather throws a damper over efforts to be genial. Mrs. Boodels wishes it to be repeated to her through the trumpet. Damper through the ear trumpet.