ial ingredient in any decentman's drinking habits, the Potato Patch always havinghad about it a somewhat base and primitive feel. It was upon Arthur'sown road near Richmond that Ikey found himself harnessedto a cart. 'And your word, it is to be trusted andmine is not, sir?'Ikey did not reply, nor even look up, but he liked thepoint and the boldness it took to make it. He had been anber of the Black Line in October the previous year,I spoke disparagingly of the bumbling manner in which, him manoeuvre had been conducted.
'There was further laughter and the judge banged hisgavel. 'Call your mistress, my dear. the table where they had been drink-Itwas a meal as good as any Mary had tasted, andch more than she could eat. With seven-eighths of their combined fortune under herdirect control, Hannah told herself she was willing to sacrificean estimated fifty thousand pounds, 'for being wellrid of the mangy bastard'.
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