A remittance man. "Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. And the woman who showed this room was tall, with an understanding eye and the quiet manner of the well-trained servant. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. It was only some hours after that these ambiguous elements evaporated and vanished and loathing came, and she really began to be thoroughly sick and ashamed of the whole disgraceful quarrel and scuffle. “I thought you wanted to have a talk to me,” she said.
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