Should be home soon. To the Seven Cities of Refuge Jack proceeded. The faithful fellow will never leave me. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. " "As you please," returned Jack, leaping up; "but I feel devilishly inclined to finish him. ‘I’ve finished me report, sir,’ Trodger said aggrievedly. I'm having some unexpected guests.
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