" "Leave you!" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh; "—not just yet. Slipshod; follow me. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. Their doors stood open, and placards with big letters indicated the section assigned to each. She wrenched her head away from his grip and got her arm between his chest and hers. Nothing. "Put down your burthen, monster!" shouted Wood, pointing an immense blunderbuss at him. Next instant, Gerald felt his wrist seized in an iron grip.
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