He lives near the Black Lion. Ain't you, Jacky darling?" "Not quite, Poll," returned Mr. Since Jack has left us, what does it matter whether he's pleased or not?" At this moment, a whistle was heard. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. “Good God!” he exclaimed. " "How?" exclaimed the other. ‘I broke in. “My dear Miss Stanley, when I talked to you the other afternoon of work and politics and such-like things, my mind was all the time resenting it beyond measure. It was my destiny to have her. Excited by the scene, Jack, however, could pay little attention to the good man's discourse, and was lost in a whirl of tumultuous emotions.
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