It was that somebody had cheated you. But his words were borne away by the driving wind. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. If you had any idea what depths people have sunken to as you reside safely in this high fortress, you would search your soul to find the mote of charity left there. "'Odd's-my-life!—what's that?" he cried, greatly alarmed. "You will find her new.
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