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wound was not a skin-deep-wound—but that it had gone to his heart.
CHAP. XXVII.
The world is ashamed of being virtuous—My uncle Toby knew little of the world; and therefore when he felt he was in love with widow Wadman, he had no conception that the thing was any more to be made a mystery of, than if Mrs. Wadman, had given him a cut with a gap'd knife across his finger: Had it been otherwise———yet as he ever look'd upon Trim as a humble friend; and saw fresh reasons every day of his life, to treat him as such—it would have made no variation in the manner in which he informed him of the affair.
"I
