The doctor smoked his pipe thoughtfully. At the gate opening upon the road leading to Dollis Hill were stationed William Morgan and John Dump. The City worried him a good deal, and what energy he had left over he spent partly in golf, a game he treated very seriously, and partly in the practices of microscopic petrography. "Bravo, Poll!" cried Jack, who having again pinioned Shotbolt, was now tracing a few hasty lines on a sheet of paper. Annabel, tell me that you did not wish me dead. But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad.
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