That's the worst of living so far out," bawled Mr. White, with sudden and unlooked for violence; of all the beastly, slushy, out of the way places to love in, this is the worst. Pathways's a bog, and the road's a torret. I don't know what people are thinking about. I suppose because only two houses in the road are let, they think it doesn't matter." "Never mind, dear," said his wife, soothingly; "perhaps you'll win the next one." Mr. White looked up sharply, just in time to intercept a knowing glance between mother and son. The words died away on his lips, and he hid a guilty grin in his thin grey beard. whats the mood in this passage?