’ A laugh escaped her. A lucky escape. ” “I wish you good luck,” she answered. This woman, contrary to his custom, he answered. I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. What of madame, his wife?’ ‘You know more of her than me,’ the girl said with a look of scorn. The less she lived, in fact, the better. Not a word had been exchanged between the two boys on the road. Too late, alas, to stop the disastrous marriage. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. She sank upon her knees and unbuttoned his coat.
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