"You look disgustingly fit," said Leah, when Jim was established on the drawing-room sofa, with a rug and a few unnecessary medicine bottles, and other sick-room paraphernalia.
"Sorry I can't be more of a corpse," growled the invalid; "but it's not easy to pretend you're a goner, when y' feel fit to jump over the moon."
"Try and cough louder," suggested his wife.
"Shan't! It hurts m' throat. Hang it, I've lost three stone. I believe you want me dead in real earnest."
Lady Jim thought for a moment. "No, I don't," she said, truly enough. "You haven't treated me over well, and I should have been a different woman, had you been a different man----"
"Divorce court lingo," said Jim, remembering what she had said at Firmingham, and with a derisive laugh.
"All the same, I hope you'll have a good time in South America."
"Why not in Jamaica?"
"Because you've got to be thoroughly sick there. Demetrius will come along later with Garth's corpse, and----"
"Ugh! Drop it! What about the money--my share?"