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Indeed, even holly and mistletoe hung in festoons upon the wall. With a sigh of content Hardrow flung himself into a chair, and seized a knife and fork. Soon a plate liberally heaped with good things was before him. Greedily he set to work, with the appetite of a man who had not tasted food for several hours.... "Dood-evening," said a voice. "Are you Father Kwistmas?"
The Merchant Prince, turning over in his Streatham residence, heard, and turned again to sleep, with love for all mankind in his heart.... The Pauper in his workhouse, up betimes, heard, and chuckled at the prospect of his Christmas dinner.... And, on the Embankment, Robert Hardrow, with a cynical smile on his lips, listened to the splendid irony of it. AUTHOR. That was all local colour.
"I just looked in to know what you would like me to bring you." "You're late, aren't oo? Oughtn't oo to have come this morning?" "If I'm late, dear," said Robert, with a smile, "why, so are you." The good food and wine in his veins were doing their work, and a pleasant warmth was stealing over Hardrow. He found to his surprise that airy banter still came easy to him.
Gambling, drink, morphia, billiards and cigars he had taken to them all; until now in the wretched figure of the outcast on the Embankment you would never have recognized the once spruce figure of Handsome Hardrow. Handsome Hardow! How absurd it sounded now! He had let his beard grow, his clothes were in rags, a scar over one eye testified
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