The manager twisted his moustache. ‘What are you going to do now, Gerald?’ He sipped his wine and shrugged. "And his lordship, furthermore, requests me to state," proceeded Sharples, in a hoarse tone, "that he'll be responsible for the doctors' bill of all such gem'men as have received broken pates, or been otherwise damaged in the fray—ough! ough!" "Hurrah!" shouted the mob. The carpet was a quiet drugget and not excessively worn, and the bed in the corner was covered by a white quilt. . He shook his head. ’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it.
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