“My friend,” said Clancy, “doesn’t drink. The last thing the doctor said to him before we came away was, ‘Don’t touch a drop of liquor or your life will pay the forfeit.’ You see, Miss Luce, he’s been a dissipated youth––drink––and having been dissipated and coming of delicate people, it’s affected his health.”
“You don’t tell me? I’m sure he doesn’t look it.”
“No, he don’t––that’s a fact. But so it is.”
“Stomach?” she asked me.
“No––heart,” answered Clancy for me. “What they call an aneurism. You know what an aneurism is, of course?”
“Yes-yes––oh, yes–––”
“Of course. Well, he’s got one of them.”
“That’s too bad. So he only smokes instead?”
“That’s all. Here, Joe, smoke up.”
“My, I always thought smoking was bad for the heart.”