"'Sblood! what's this!" cried Jonathan, in the utmost surprise. She had thought it a mirror, because it was her. As though accidentally she swept her skirts from a chair close drawn to her own. "The Wastrel seemed to take it all right. It felt wonderful and golden to bask in the sunlight of their approval, even if their approval was fickle and dangerous. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. "Two hundred pounds, if he's lodged in Newgate before to-morrow morning," continued Wild.
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