this one round the corner was a good pound and three-quarters.
Chaven: Oh, I know. There's a twig sticks up just outside him, a black twig.
Wick: Well, blackish.
Chaven: There's a young copper beech opposite.
Wick: Yes, youngish.
I: Oh, that one.
Wick: Yes.
Chaven: Of course.
Wick: Well
At this point my wife suddenly began to favour us with some very pungent observations. She said, among other things, that she had not asked Wickham and Chavender to Willows that they might entertain her with this kind of prating. She asked them plainly if they had left their wits behind them in London. She expressed astonishment that two such splendid intellects could concern themselves with folly of so colossal an order. She threatened to remove the teapot if Chavender so much as said "trout" again. For a week, she said, she had been living for that witty discourse upon really interesting topics of which she knew them to be capable. She called Heaven to witness, that of all tedious subjects angling was the most tiresome. Them and their copper beeches! Them and their measurements along the
