He was a small, dark, reserved man, with a large inflexiblelooking convex forehead, and his wife was very pink and high-spirited, with one of those chins that pass insensibly into a full, strong neck. The rest of the crowd followed suit with weak laughter. A tinge of admiration rose in his breast. " "Are you man, or fiend?" exclaimed Trenchard, staring at the stranger, as he concluded his narration. He's down in Patagonia somewhere. He never appears to so little advantage as when speaking of him. "I'll soon settle this business.
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