Having drunk as much as he thought prudent, and thanked his unknown friend for his attention, Jack again lay down on the straw, and indulged himself with another nap, intending to get up as soon as it was perfectly dark. ‘Not but what it was near that before Jarvis died. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. The spirit of disaffection was busy throughout the kingdom. Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves. I am sorry that I do not know any one in London.
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