How long he sat there, reeling off this drivel, he never knew. ” He stood still, looking at her. The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue. At any rate, it would be good to hear him saying the sort of things he did—perhaps now she would grasp them better—with this world-shaking secret brandishing itself about inside her head within a yard of him. "Well, Jack," said the prize-fighter, in a rough, but friendly voice, and with a cutand-thrust abrupt manner peculiar to himself; "how are you, lad, eh? Sorry to see you here.
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