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. He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand. Relief flooded her. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. “A man can smoke, a man can swear; A man scores always, everywhere. “It is rather odd,” he said, “but I always thought that your name was Annabel and hers Anna.
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