" Sheppard was no match for his opponent, for, though he possessed more science, he was deficient in weight and strength; and, after a short round, in which he had decidedly the worst of it, a well-directed hit on the nob stretched him at full length on the floor. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. She was too late. But Darrell averted his head. Sir John saw it, and was flattered. You're in luck to-night, widow. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand.
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