“Rummy lot we are!” said Roddy. “Is there any urgency?” The doctor bent over his patient, who seemed to have fallen asleep. Then, presto! What a dreary lot they are when the revellers lay aside the motley! Ruth had come from a far South Sea isle. "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. "Now, Jack," cried Thames, warmly grasping Sheppard's hand, "you are my friend again. ’ He grimaced.
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