Why run any more risks?
He is liberal to me, and I'm not extravagant.

I can allow you more than I said, and wrong nobody." Monckton interrupted her, thus: "There, old girl, you are a good sort; you always were.

But not bleed that skunk Bartley, and not be revenged on that villain Hope?
I'd rather die where I stand, for they have turned my blood to gall, and lighted hell in my heart this many a year of misery." He held out his hand to her; it was cold.

She grasped it in her warm, soft palm, and gave him one strange, searching look with her glorious eyes; and so they parted.
Next day, at dusk, there arrived at the Dun Cow an elderly man with a large carpet-bag and a strapped bundle of patterns--tweed, kersey, velveteen, and corduroys.

He had a short gray mustache and beard, very neat; and appeared to be a commercial traveller.
In the evening he asked for brandy, old rum, lemons, powdered sugar, a kettle, and a punch-bowl.