"She proved herself more prudent than you, Arthur. You should have known better than to ask a young girl to be your wife, when you have nothing, and will keep nothing, to support her.
"I'll risk the support," returned Arthur, with a short laugh, "if she had consented we could have managed to
live, I fancy; and had we failed, we'd have called on our relations." Here Arthur cast a meaning, but half-mirthful glance at Guly, who, seeing that even then he was half intoxicated, shrunk away, not wishing to prolong the conversation.
"Do you know what I am going to do?" continued Arthur, again looking up.
"Nothing wrong, I hope, Arthur."
"You may think so. Since I can't get her by fair means, I'm bound to get her by foul; that's what I'm going to do."
"For pity's sake, my brother, if the girl is good and innocent do not wrong her; there are enough ready to gratify your idle whims, without robbing the pure and happy of their peace. Where does she live?"
"Perhaps you think I'll tell you that, and have you play the defender? Ah, I've got my senses yet."
"How did you get acquainted, and where?"
"How? By my own natural conversational powers, which called out hers. Where? In the street, in the first place, where I was so fortunate as to meet her just as she had dropped one of a number of parcels of herb medicine she was carrying. I had the pleasure of picking it up for her, and of relieving her of some of her load. Thus I found out where she lived, and then took it upon myself to call again; but she hasn't seemed to like me from the first