"Well, Jack," said the prize-fighter, in a rough, but friendly voice, and with a cutand-thrust abrupt manner peculiar to himself; "how are you, lad, eh? Sorry to see you here. “I’m only arguing against your position of what a woman should be, and trying to get it clear in my own mind. “And yet you still live, Butterfly. Why did the beggar hang on down there, when he could have enjoyed all that civilization had to offer? Yes, he would be mighty glad to see McClintock; and the sooner he came the better. So the charge was dismissed. ” Her eyes were lit with humour.
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