CHAPTER XII. "And now, widow," continued the ruffian, setting down the candle, and applying his lips to the bottle neck as he flung his heavy frame upon a bench, "I've a piece o' good news for you. Raising the bowl in his right hand, Jack glanced towards the balcony, in which the group of ladies were seated, and begged to drink their healths; he then turned to Kneebone and the others, who extended their hands towards him, and raised it to his lips. It did seem in so many ways exactly what Ramage said it was—the sensible thing to do. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. It is dull—deadly dull.
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