Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber. "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. His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. “Had the pleasure of dining with you at the ‘Ambassador’s’ one night, before the show, you know—last September I think it was. Another picture slid across her vision. But I was portentous, I can assure you. “It couldn’t be. You are much more like what I was then.
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