I wish you good-evening." The noise of my fall had been heard by the other occupants of rooms on my landing.

Most fortunately for my dignity, they did not come in to see what was the matter until I had been able to get into my chair again.
When they entered, I felt that the impression of the slap was red on my face still, but the mark of the blow was hidden by my hair.

Under these fortunate circumstances, I was able to keep up my character among my friends, when they inquired about the scuffle, by informing them that Gentleman Jones had audaciously slapped my face, and that I had been obliged to retaliate by knocking him down.

My word in the prison was as good as his; and if my version of the story got fairly the start of his, I had the better chance of the two of being believed.
I was rather anxious, the next day, to know what course my polite and pugilistic instructor would take.

To my utter amazement, he bowed to me as civilly as usual when we met in the yard; he never denied my version of the story; and when my friends laughed at him as a thrashed man, he took not the slightest notice of their agreeable merriment.