“I’ll be hanged if I do. But "fine" is the word. Did he talk a little when you took him into the city?" "No. He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy. Her heart full of dread, she dragged on it. It was a pity he didn't break his neck, for he was hanged within the year. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. It was lent me by a countryman o' mine; but I paid him back in his own coin—ha! ha!" "A countryman of yours, Terry?" "Ay, and a noble one, too, Quilt—more's the pity! You've heard of the Marquis of Slaughterford, belike?" "Of course; who has not? He's the leader of the Mohocks, the general of the Scourers, the prince of rakes, the friend of the surgeons and glaziers, the terror of your tribe, and the idol of the girls!" "That's him to a hair?" cried Terence, rapturously.
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