"O Lord!" gasps Mr. Smallweed. "That'll do. Thank you, my dear friend, that'll do. Oh, dear me, I'm out of breath. O Lord!" And Mr. Smallweed says it not without evident apprehensions of his dear friend, who still stands over him looming larger than ever.

"O Lord!" gasps Mr. Smallweed. "Thank you, my dear friend, that'll do." He says this with evident apprehensions of his dear friend, who still stands over him looming larger than ever.
