“Well, sir, he ought to know: and I dare say it’s all right. But I say, sir—I don’t, mind, and I won’t say a word—you did it o’ purpose.”
“No, Gedge; indeed no.”
“But really, sir, do you mean to tell me that when your arm was laid acrost your chest you couldn’t get it away?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“And that you hit out and kick at people like that without being able to help it?”
“Yes; it is quite true, my lad, and it is horrible.”
“Well, I dunno about being horrible, sir. Things like that can’t last, no more than a fellow being off his head and talking all kinds o’ stuff for a bit.”
“You can’t grasp it, Gedge,” sighed Bracy.
“No, sir; wish I could.”
“What!”