“So you did, without counting the points; but you 've lost five hundred and sixty-four,--ay, and a right good thing you 've made of it, Master Paul. I 'd like to know how long it is since you earned such a sum honestly.” Classon sighed heavily as he swept the cash into his pocket, and said, “I'm unable to tell you; my memory grows worse every day.” “When you go back to England, you can always brush it up by the Police sheet,--that's a comfort,” said Davis, with a savage laugh. “And what will the noble Viscount have to spend yearly?” asked Classon, to change the theme. “Something between eight and ten thousand.” “A snug thing, Kit,--a very snug thing indeed; and I take it that by this time o' day he knows the world pretty well.” “No; nothing of the kind!” said Grog, bluntly; “he's a fool, and must stay a fool!” “The more luck his, then, to have Christopher Davis for his father-in-law.” “I 'll tell you what's better still, Holy Paul,--to have Lizzy Davis for his wife. _You_ think she's going to make a great match of it because he's the Lord Viscount and she is _my_ daughter; but _I_ tell you, and I 'm ready to maintain it too, I never met the man yet was worthy of her. There may be girls as handsome, though I never saw them,--there may be others as clever, that I'm no judge of; but this I do know,--that for pluck, real pluck, you 'll not find her equal in Europe. She'd never have married him for his rank; no, if it was a dukedom he had to offer her. She 'd never have taken him for his fortune, if it had been ten times the amount. No, she would n't consent to it, even to take _me_ out of my difficulties and set me all straight with the world, because she fancied that by going on the stage, or some such trumpery, she could have done that just as well. She'd not have had him for himself, for she knows he's a fool, just as well as I do. There was only one thing I found she could n't get over: it was the thought she _dare_ not marry him; that to thrust herself into the station and rank _he_ occupied would be to expose herself to insults that must crush her. It was by a mere chance I discovered that this was a challenge she 'd have rather died than decline. It was for all the world like saying to myself, 'Don't you go into the ring there, Kit Davis; my Lords and the gentlemen don't like it.' 'Don't they? Well, let's see how they'll take it, for I _am_ a-going!' It was _that_ stung her, Paul Classon. _She_ did n't want all those fine people; _she_ did n't care a brass farthing about their ways and their doings! _She_ 'd not have thought it a hard lot in life just to jog on as she is. She did n't want to be called a countess, nor live like one; but when it was hinted to her, that if she _did_ venture amongst them, it would be to be driven back with shame and insult, then her mind was made up at once. Not that she ever confessed as much to me; no, I found out her secret by watching her closely. The day I told her I