"Adieu, my worthy uncle. Jackson?" said Wood, significantly. "Aha! my lad!" he cried without appearing to regard the pain of the wound; "now I'll show you no quarter. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. Side by side with the cheese (its never-failing accompaniment, in all seasons, at the carpenter's board) came a tankard of swig, and a toast. He pulled her from him to kiss her on the mouth and paused, looking into her face.
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