He had never been flogged, and he said he never would be.

"I would drown myself sooner," he said to me.

And if any dark touch were wanting to complete my hero's portrait, it was given by this terrible threat, in which I put full faith.
He was a dandy, and his dressing-table was the plague of my life.

Well do I remember breaking some invaluable toilette preparation on it, and the fit of rage in which he flung the broken bottle at my head.

He was very sorry when his first wrath was past, and he bound up my head, and gave me a pound of sausages, and a superbly bound copy of Young's "Night Thoughts," which I still possess.