“And now give me your advice.”
“Well, that’s soon done,” replied Chumbley. “I’ve quite made up my mind what advice I shall give.”
“Well, what?”
“Do you mean what shall we do?”
“Yes; of course.”
“Nothing.”
Hilton uttered an ejaculation that was far from pious, and began to fume and fret, till Chumbley rose in his slow, cumbrous fashion, placed a cigar in his friend’s hand, and bade him smoke it.
“Look here, old fellow,” he said, quietly, “if we are to escape, it can only be when a chance offers itself; and if you will bring your profound wisdom to bear upon the matter, you will see that all we can do is to wait for that chance.”
“And until that chance comes we must put up with this wretched woman’s insults!”
“Yes, if you like to call them so; and I’d do it, old fellow, without getting into a bad temper and calling names, seeing—”