fury, until, in fact, he was speechless. It was terrible to look at him when at length he made his way out of the crowd; his face was livid, his eyes bloodshot, a. red slaver covered his lips and beard; you might have taken him for a drunken man, so feebly did his limbs support him, so shattered was he by the fit through which he had passed.
Joseph followed him, and presently walked along at his side.
“That was about as good a speech as I’ve heard for a long time, Mr. Hewett,” he began by observing. “I like to hear a man speak as if he meant it.”
John looked up with a leaden, rheumy eye, but the compliment pleased him, and in a moment he smiled vacantly.
“I haven’t said my last word yet,” he replied, with difficulty making himself audible through his hoarseness.
“It takes it out of you, I’m afraid. Suppose we have a drop of something at the corner here?”
“I don’t mind, Mr. Snowdon. I thought
