"Yes, it is the face of a sot," said Drabble, brutally--"not an uncommon sight."
"I have to thank you for making it so," stuttered Trall savagely. "I should not be what I am had I not come under your thumb. But take care, I may be one too many for you some day."
"This is not the first time you have threatened me," said Drabble; "take you care lest I make it the last. You drunken hound, clear out!"
"By the way, did you get your letter from Sandbeach?" asked Mallow of Trall, as he slouched towards the door with fierce resentment in his eyes.
"Eh, what?" cried Drabble, looking sharply from one to the other. "What letter?"
"Oh, merely a letter from Clara, saying she was leaving Mrs. Carson," answered Trall, hastily.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't think it worth while."
"Everything is worth while that concerns Carson," rebuked Drabble. "Where is the letter, you fool?"
"In the fire; there were only half a dozen lines. But how do you know that Clara wrote to me?" added Trall, turning to Mallow.