"To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. ’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. You will find the certificate in my pocket. Taken altogether, his physiognomy resembled one of those vagabond heads which Murillo delighted to paint, and for which Guzman d'Alfarache, Lazarillo de Tormes, or Estevanillo Gonzalez might have sat:—faces that almost make one in love with roguery, they seem so full of vivacity and enjoyment. ’ Triumph leapt in Gerald’s chest.
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