“A man that reformed.”
“Before or after marriage?”
“Before, I suppose.”
“I don’t think he died happy.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve a faint recollection that he was boiled.”
“Don’t be horrid. What has that to do with it?”
“Nothing, perhaps. But he probably broke out again after marriage, and sank at last into that caldron. That’s what it means by being-steeped in crime.”
“How utterly nonsensical you are!”
“I feel light-headed. You’ve been at sea, on a yacht becalmed, haven’t you? when along comes a groundswell, and as you rock in the sun there comes trouble, and your head goes round like a top? Now, that’s my case. I’ve been becalmed four years, and while I pray for a little wind to take me—home, you rock me in the trough of uncertainty. Suspense is very gall and wormwood. You know what the jailer said to the criminal who was hanging on a reprieve: ‘Rope deferred maketh the heart sick.’ Marion, give me the hour, or give me the rope.”