You're coming with us to-night, my boy, and old Bull's-eye can sit and scowl at himself in the looking-glass if he likes." I went with them, glad enough to get anywhere out of Jack's sight.

We had a "rollicking evening," as the fellows called it; which meant that after a noisy and extravagant tea at the Magpie we adjourned in a body to the performance, where we made quite as much noise as the rest of the audience put together, after which we finished up with a fish supper of Doubleday's ordering, at a restaurant, the bill for which came to two shillings a head.
I was not in a condition to enjoy myself.

The thought of Jack haunted me all the evening and made me miserable.

I fancied him walking back from Hawk Street alone.

He would stop to talk to Billy, I knew, and then he would go on to Beadle Square and bury himself in his book till bedtime.