‘What has that to say to anything?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ smiled Lucy nervously. Having worked thus for another quarter of an hour without being sensible of fatigue, though he was half stifled by the clouds of dust which his exertions raised, he had made a hole about three feet wide, and six high, and uncovered the iron bar. He was only a younger son, and you know what trouble we had. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. Gosse backed, not even attempting to parry so unorthodox a use of the foil.
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