"There's something left from Playmore--there's ninety pounds, and it's in my pocket.

It was got from the sale of your sporting-kit.

There was the boat upon the lake, the gun, and all kinds of riffraff stuff not sold with Playmore." Dyck nodded and smiled.

"Good Michael!" Then he drew himself up stiffly, and blew in and out his breath as if with the joy of living.

For four hard years he had been denied the free air of free men.