"It's rather a shadier place than the old one." "Yes, when you come to think of it, a fellow would get a bit shy when he read the address, `care of Tom Jailbird, Esquire, Up a Slum, Drury Lane.'" "Look here!" cried I, suddenly starting up; "don't you call my friend names, please." Nothing could have delighted the genial pair more than my excitement.
They greeted my protest with laughter, and winking at one another, continued to talk among themselves.
"Good practice, I should think.

Crow, living with a chap like that--get used to prison fare.

Come all the easier later on." "Wonder if they practise picking one another's pockets to keep their hands in, of an evening." "I'm told that jailbird has got an album full of tickets-of-leave." "Ah! His father must have travelled a good bit in his time." It was pitiful, paltry jesting, but it was more than I could stand.
"Will you stop ?" I shouted.
"Nobody was speaking to you," said Wallop.
"You were speaking of my friend!" I exclaimed.
"More shame to you for chumming up with such disreputable lot," said Crow.
"Do you hear?
stop it!" I shouted.
"We'll stop it," said Wallop, "when--" I did not wait to hear more, but rushed upon the speaker.
The upshot might have been serious for me in my present weak condition, and being one against two.

But before my blow could be returned Hawkesbury, who had so far been a silent witness to the scene, sprang from his place and pulled me away.

I struggled to get free, but he held me firm, as he said, "Batchelor, don't be foolish.