"Very likely."
"And fight?"
He eyed his bandage critically, stepped back upon the road and danced about, stamping with his feet while he cut and thrust at an imaginary enemy. "And fight, hey?"
"I suppose so."
"Then, bless the lad," he exclaimed, stopping and looking at me as fierce as a rat, "get on your legs, and don't sit moping as if life were a spilt posset!"
There was no disobeying this masterful old gentleman, so I made shift to stand up.
"We have but one life to live," said he.
"I beg your pardon?"
"—In this world. God forgive me, I'd almost forgotten my cloth! We have, I say, only one life to live in this world, and must make the best of it. I tell you so, and I'm a clergyman."
"Indeed, sir?"