“An’ may the saints preserve you!”
CHAPTER IX
When Dennis retired for the night at The Stag, his transit from his room, which had never seemed so contracted as now, to the Land of Nod was somewhat delayed by reason of the exhilarating conditions through which he had just passed.
Toward midnight, however, his pulse had resumed its normal, and the young man, reaching his drowsy destination at last, began a series of the most surprising horticultural experiments until, what with orchids as big as a barrel, and geraniums which could be reached only by a ladder, he had converted the silvery strand of the dreamful domain into a forest of atrocious color and floral monstrosity.
Awakening on the succeeding morning, Dennis, accepting the sense of general lassitude which oppressed him as an indication of the arduous nature of his efforts in his dreams, began to prepare for the activities of the day.
On this occasion he was compelled to attire himself in the shirt which he had worn on the occasion of his visit the evening before, since his remaining bosoms, along with his heart, were in the possession of the beautiful widow.
But the extravagance of such indulgence did not alarm him now.
Under the circumstances, what did a shirt more or less matter?