"A row?"
"Yes—no end of a row."
"Who? What? Which of them?"
"All of them. Yesterday, and to-day, and to be continued to-morrow. Such is life. Sic transit, et cetera. Good Lord! Macrorie, what's a fellow to do but drown himself? Yes, my boy—oblivion! that's what I want. And I'll have it. This life isn't the thing for me. I was never made to be badgered. The chief end of man is for other things than getting snubbed by woman. And I'm not going to stand it. Here, close by, is a convenient river. I'll seek an acquaintance with its icy tide, rather than have another day like this."
"But I'm all in the dark. Tell what it is that has happened."
Jack inhaled a few more whiffs of the smoke that cheers but not inebriates, and then found voice to speak:
"You see it began yesterday. I started off at peace with the world, and went most dutifully to call on Miss Phillips. Well, I went in and found her as cool as an icicle. I didn't know what was up, and proceeded to do the injured innocent. Whereupon she turned upon me, and gave it to me then and there, hot and heavy. I didn't think it was in her. I really didn't—by Jove! The way she gave it to me," and Jack paused in wonder.
"What about?" said I.
"The widow!" groaned Jack.
"The widow?" I repeated.