"Well, Jack," said the prize-fighter, in a rough, but friendly voice, and with a cutand-thrust abrupt manner peculiar to himself; "how are you, lad, eh? Sorry to see you here. " "The same who was here just now?" "No, Sir Rowland, a much finer boy. He did make her perceive something of the acute, tormenting desire for her that had arisen in him and possessed him. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. She needed to protect the baby.
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