John.
Yes, yes—comforting. It was the one thing that kept me together during those shocking Pont Street days of mine.
Theophila.
Our friendship?
John.
Our friendship. When I was in the deepest misery, the thought would come to me: “Well, I shall see my little friend to-day or to-morrow.” And then I’d go through our meeting as I supposed it would be—as it always was——
Theophila.
“’Ullo, Jack! good morning—or good evening. Oh, my dear boy, you’re in trouble again, I’m afraid!”
John.
“Dreadfully. I shall go mad, I believe—or drink.”