Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber. ‘I wish you joy of the wench. Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so. It seemed to them they could never have been really alive before, but only dimly anticipating existence. "If Jack would come to my house, I'd contrive to hide him," remarked a buxom dame. "There were some marks near the window; but whether recently made or not could not be ascertained," replied Winifred. I keep it for my own drinking," he added in a lower tone.
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