The Night-Cellar. “Don’t!” she begged. Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. "Zounds!" cried Kneebone, furiously. Rather a magniloquent term, perhaps, but what else am I to say? One of these is that the most absolutely selfish thing in the world is to give way to depression, to think of one’s troubles at all except of how to overcome them. Which is the nearest way to the river?" "Why, it's an awkward road to direct you," returned Jonathan. ‘Well, we’ll just go on up and have a look at this here passage, missie, shall we?’ ‘Have I not been saying so?’ snapped Melusine, exasperated.
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