Jenkins just sat there, kind of huddled up, you know, and his face as white as the what-you-call-it snow. Didn't seem able to say a word. By Jove, it was too much for me; my heart just went out to him.
"It's all right, Jenkins," I said kindly, and I patted his knee. "Doesn't make a jolly bit of difference to me, personally. Just told you because I thought you ought to know. You just go right along and continue your duties, so far as I am concerned."
Jenkins' hand slipped along his knee and ventured to touch mine timidly. He rose heavily.
"Mr. Lightnut, sir," he said huskily, "if you're not going to need me very much, could I be excused for a while to-night?"
"By Jove, yes, Jenkins! Go out and enjoy the evening; it will do you good. Stay as long as you like, dash it! You know I dine to-night at the club. Go to a roof garden and get some fresh air."
A toss of the head broke Jenkins' calm; his fist struck his palm.
"It ain't that, sir," he exclaimed. "I don't want no fresh air, but I do want fresh resolution and a fresh start. I'm going to find him."
"Him!" I was startled. Dash me, I half thought he meant the Chinaman.
"Him, sir; that temperance lecturer, I mean. I'm going to get out a paper against that old enemy there!" And he shook his fist at the whisky decanter.