“What the devil do you mean by coming for me like that?” Ennison exclaimed, glowering down upon him. At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. “But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired. He felt he had raised a storm which it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to allay. I had no curiosity of that kind. Kneebone and his Friends.
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