He opened the drawer of the writing table. Jack and his comrade went to the Mint, where he was joined by Edgeworth Bess, with whom he sat down most unconcernedly to supper. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. “So I see that you have become content with your hardscrabble existence, your week-to-week survival, your Martin Chen!” “Who?” “Your limp-wristed lover!” “Um. "You hear," pursued Jonathan; "my friend desires to know if you are willing to pay your footing as a member of the ancient and respectable fraternity of debtors?" "I owe no man a farthing, and my name shall never appear in any such rascally list," replied Wood angrily. His gaze remained steady on the old dame’s face, as he thought about it. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent.
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