He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe.

His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner.

By his side sat a remarkably stout dame, to whom he paid as much attention as it was in his iron nature to pay.

She had a nut-brown skin, a swarthy upper lip, a merry black eye, a prominent bust, and a tun-like circumference of waist.

A widow for the fourth time, Mrs.
Spurling, (for she it was,) either by her attractions of purse or person, had succeeded in moving the stony heart of Mr.Marvel, who, as he had helped to deprive her of her former husbands, thought himself in duty bound to offer to supply their place.