I hate him now!" And the poor fellow, with all the manhood out of him, cried himself to sleep; and Jeffreys in mercy said not a word to stop him.
A pitiful sort of friendship sprung up between the two--the bitter strong one, and the vicious weak one.

It kept a soft corner in Jeffreys' heart to find some one who held to him even in this degradation, and to the poor prodigal it was worth anything to have some one to talk to.
Coming home one wet morning from one of his nocturnal expeditions, Jeffreys found his fellow-lodger up, with a bottle in his hands.
"My boy, my boy," cried the lad, "you're in luck, and just in time.

Who says I'm lost to all decency after this?
Why, I might have hidden it away when I heard you coming up.

No.

There's something of the nobleman left in me yet.