" "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. Gerald exchanged a puzzled glance with his friend. "It only leads to the fencing crib," replied Wild. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. " "What should I retract, villain?" cried the woollen-draper, who at the sound of Jack's voice had regained his confidence.
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