But he can't have his eyes always about him, or he'd have been with us this morning at the Mint, eh, Mr. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. She did not resist him, she could not. It never seems to enter their heads to try and amuse their menkind. She shrank from him as he gripped her hand more forcibly. Jack's former attempt to pass up the chimney, it may be remembered, was obstructed by an iron bar. Wood, was pronounced by that lady to be very much sprained; and she, forthwith, proceeded to bathe it with a reddish-coloured lotion. But don’t run away with the idea that I’m hanging out for a wife at last, because I’m not.
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