"Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard. "At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation. " "Look at it, then," said Wild, giving him the portfolio. And how can I get into one brief letter the complex accumulated desires of what is now, I find on reference to my diary, nearly sixteen months of letting my mind run on you— ever since that jolly party at Surbiton, where we raced and beat the other boat. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was.
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