They turned off at Glen Grove, a sleepy town of less than two hundred. In Darrell's open features, frankness and honour were written in legible characters; while, in Jack's physiognomy, cunning and knavery were as strongly imprinted. "Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. Suddenly Ah Cum laughed aloud. “I hope you realize,” he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, “that I am in earnest—very much in earnest. It is you who took my name, not I yours. Sister Angelina shook her head as if to say that such ignorance was beyond her.
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