276 He opened the box. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain. "As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in. She laughed altogether in her old manner. You don’t deserve it, but he does. His attraction for her was now written plainly on his freckled face, revealed by the many drinks he had imbibed. They chatted pleasantly as he drove around the neighborhood for a half an hour, then stopped by the Diedermayer house.
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