The woollen-draper was no despicable trencherman in a general way; but his feats with the knife and fork were child's sport compared with those of Mr. Her thick body was heavy and massive. Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. He stamped his last letter as Annabel entered. "And who taught it you—the landlord, Joe Hind?" "No; one Blueskin, a fellow who frequents the Lion," answered Jack, with a degree of candour that astonished his master nearly as much as his confidence.
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