He was gone and I sat there alone with my reflections. It may readily be guessed they were not agreeable.
The only thing I was sure of was that I should pay Daly's bill at once, if I had the requisite balance to my credit in the bank; and that I wished he had been in a warmer place than Barbados before he ever interfered in my affairs.
CHAPTER XXVI.
BEHIND THE BARS.
Why should I blame poor Daly for doing what his profession and the law he followed dictated plainly? Why should I blame my Uncle Dugald for putting me under guardianship, after I was supposed to have reached the years of discretion?
These are indeed pregnant questions. If the reader has had neurasthenia and only partially recovered, he will know that the victim of that malady needs no legitimate reason for any fancies that possess him. It is plain to me—now—that in sending Daly on my track, my Uncle was acting the part of a considerate and thoughtful relation.
It is equally clear to me—now—that the conduct of Daly, from first to last, deserves the highest praise. Instead of demurring for an instant at his bill I would have done well to add $500 to it as a present.
At the moment he was to me like a blistering plaster, making me think of nothing but the irritation and pain. It is little consolation to be told, under any circumstances, that one has played the part of a fool.
I went to dinner at the club moodily, and on returning to my apartments set myself to consuming as many cigars as possible in a given time. They were cigars I had bought from a Kingston manufacturer and were decidedly better than many sold under the name of "Havanas," since the troubles began in Cuba. I must have smoked at least twenty of them before I paused, put on my hat and light overcoat, and went out of doors, to see if the open air would have any effect in clearing the mist that hung over my brain.