It became a sort of duel at last between them, and all the others sat and listened—every one, that is, except the Alderman, who had got the blond young man into a corner by the green-stained dresser with the aluminum things, and was sitting with his back to every one else, holding one hand over his mouth for greater privacy, and telling him, with an accent of confidential admission, in whispers of the chronic struggle between the natural modesty and general inoffensiveness of the Borough Council and the social evil in Marylebone. "Hist!" cried Rowland, arresting his comrade. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. " "'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your old pal, Quilt?" "Ay, if he plays a-cross," returned Quilt. Well, after a time there came a fever in my blood. What a girl of sixteen cares for is hair and a high color and moonlight and a tenor voice.
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