"No; letters. I don't care for the Sea-Kings just now. They're
rather remote old dogs, after all, you know."

"Distinctly, I should say."

"A queer thing, on the whole, that I can stick so to them. But I
like their spirit. You're not a pugnacious fellow, I think,
Glazzard?"

"No, I think not."

"But I am, you know. I mean it literally. Every now and then I feel
I should like to thrash some one. I read in the paper this morning
of some son of a"----(Denzil's language occasionally reminded one
that he had been a sailor) "who had cheated a lot of poor
servant-girls out of their savings. My fists itched to be at that
lubber! There's a good deal to be said for the fighting instinct in
man, you know."

"So thinks 'Arry of the music-halls."

"Well, we have heard before of an ass opening its mouth to prophesy.
I tell you what: on my way here this afternoon I passed the office
of some journal or other in the Strand, where they're exhibiting a
copy of their paper returned to them by a subscriber in Russia. Two
columns are completely obliterated with the censor's lamp-black,--
that's how it reaches the subscriber's hands. As I stood looking at
that, my blood rose to boiling-point! I could have hurrah'd for war
with Russia on that one account alone. That contemptible idiot of a