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Updated: May 5, 2025
I tell you to get out!" cried drunkard No. 2. "Brave Battlemoor, I say; long live Battlemoor! Have a drink? I want Battlemoor to drink with me." "For God's sake have a drink with him," said Sally, "and then perhaps he'll take another box for my benefit." "What, another?" "Only a guinea one this time; there's the ticket fork out. And now I must be off."
The boxes were bright with courtesans; the young men whispered invitations to drink, and the chairman, puffing at a huge cigar, used his little hammer and announced "Miss Sally Slater will appear next." Battlemoor roared approval, and then in a short skirt and black stockings Sally rushed to the footlights and took her audience, as it were, by the throat.
Come, let's be off, they'll be up here in a moment." But they were intercepted by Muchross and his friends in a saloon where Sally and Battlemoor were drinking with various singers, waiting their turns. "Where are you going? You aren't going off like that?" cried Muchross, catching her by her sleeve. "Yes, I am; I am going home." "Let me see you home," whispered Dicky.
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