Ned Hooper, a kind-hearted fellow enough, and thinking himself not so bad as he seemed because of that same kind-heartedness, had reached the galloping point, and was travelling unusually fast along the high road to ruin. Being of a generous nature, Ned was in the habit of extending his patronage to various beer-shops, among others to that one near London Bridge which has been described as the property of Gorman. Business, pleasure, or fancy led him to that shop on the evening in question. He was standing at the counter steadying himself with his left hand and holding a pewter-pot in his right, when the door of the inner room opened, and Gorman crossed the floor. He was in a thoughtful mood, and was about to pass out without raising his eyes, when Ned arrested him with: "Good ev-n'in', Misher Gorm'n." Gorman glanced back, and then turned away as if in contempt, but, suddenly checking himself, returned, and going up to Hooper with as affable a smile as his countenance would admit of, said that he was delighted to shake hands with him, and that he was the very man he wanted to see, as he wished to have a word of conversation with him. "Conv'shas'n wi' me?" said Ned, swaying himself to and fro as he endeavoured to look steadily in the face of his friend; "fire away, shen. I'm sh' man f'r conv'shash'n, grave or gay, comic--'r--shublime, 's all the shame to me!" He finished the pot, and laid it, with an immense assumption of care, on the counter. "Come out, we'll walk as we talk," said Gorman. "Ha! to b'shure; 'at's poetical--very good, very good, we'll wa-alk as we talk--ha! ha! very good. Didn't know you wash a poet--eh? don't look like 'un." "Come along, then," said Gorman, taking him by the arm. "Shtop!" said Ned, drawing himself up with an air of drivelling dignity, and thrusting his hand into his trouser-pocket. "What for?" asked the other. "I haven't p-paid for my b-beer." "Never mind the beer. I'll stand that," said Gorman, dragging his friend away. Ned consented to be dragged, and said something to the effect that he hoped to have the pleasure of standing treat on some future occasion. "Now, then," said Gorman, somewhat firmly, though not sternly, for he knew that Ned Hooper was not to be browbeat; "are you sober enough to attend to what I've got to say?" "Shober as a dudge," answered Ned. Gorman looked earnestly in his face for a few moments, and then began to talk to him in a continuous strain by way of testing him. "C'found these cabs an' b-busseses; a feller c-can't hear a word," said Ned. "Your lodgin's an't far off, are they?" "Close 't 'and," answered Ned. "Let's go to 'em," said Gorman. In silence Ned Hooper led the way, and, conducting his friend into his "chamber," as he styled his poor abode, begged him to be seated, and threw himself into an armchair beside the little fire. There was a pipe on the chimney-piece, which Ned began to fill, while Gorman opened the conversation.