Galloping Dick
Meanness was never cried of Galloping Dick. We shall take part together. Come, you and I are engaged for a fine evening’s pleasuring.”
And with that I let him snatch a glimmer of the pistol. He stared at me reflectively for a space, with a frown upon his forehead, and then shrugged his shoulders after a foreign fashion of his. “It seems,” said he, “that, having made free with the Devil, I must e’en abide his company.”
“That is so,” I retorted on him, grinning, “and ’tis not the first time the Church has made friends with him.”
“’Tis a lesson,” said the Bishop, continuing his thoughts, “one might protest, against bodily indulgence.”
“Fie! fie!” says I, “a wit turned preacher?”
“I will have you observe, Ryder,” says he, with asperity, “that I am still your guest.” His ease had not deserted the man, even in his anger, and I would have made him a decent apology for the sneer, had not the rumble of approaching wheels distracted my attention.
“It appears,” said the Bishop calmly, “that
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