“Ruin me? Think of me with fondness? Are you dying of cancer or something?” He demanded. Wood, in a whisper, as he filled a rummer to the brim, not to forget the health of the Chevalier de Saint George—a proposition to which the lady immediately responded by drinking the toast aloud. Well, if she survives the accident—as the blood, who styles himself Sir Cecil, fancies she may do—this ring will make my fortune by leading to the discovery of the chief parties concerned in this strange affair. Gay," rejoined Jack. “Yes,” she said at last, “it is firm and affectionate.
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