“I believed that he was the great multi-millionaire. Leave go, I tell you!" and he forced open the knife with his teeth. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. That, Sir, is what I call being a Good Samaritan. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. A stiff, formally-cut coat of cinnamon-coloured cloth, with rows of plate buttons, each of the size of a crown piece, on the sleeves, pockets, and skirts, reached the middle of his legs; and his costume was completed by the silver-hilted sword at his side, and the laced hat under his left arm.
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