said, straightening up as if under some striving sense of manliness.
"That's all right," nodded Ralph with a smile. "I'm going back to the house with you, and will be glad to have a chat with you. First, though, I want to say something to you, so we'll pause here for a moment."
"I've—I've made a new start," stammered Fogg. "I've buried the past."
"Good!" cried Ralph, giving his companion a hearty slap on the shoulder, "that's just what I was going to say to you. Bury the past—yes, deep, fathoms deep, without another word, never to be resurrected. To prove it, let's first bury this. Kick it under that ash heap yonder, Mr. Fogg, and forget all about it. Here's something that belongs to you. Put it out of sight, and never speak of it or think of it again."
And Ralph handed to the fireman the package done up in the oiling cloth that he had unearthed from Fogg's bunker in the cab of No. 999.
