Sheppard's good health, and success to him!" Baptist's toast was received with loud applause, and, as he sat down amid the cheers of the company, and a universal clatter of mugs and glasses, the widow's view was no longer obstructed. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. She, having all the confidence in the world, ripped off an end and drew out the contents—a letter and a check. Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically.
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