"Shop? Will you be kind enough to suggest some ordinary figure of speech that will give an idea of my situation? Plain language is quite useless. At least, I find it so."
"But, at any rate, what did she say?"
"Why," answered Jack, in a more dismal voice than ever, "she said, 'Ah, Jack!'—she called me Jack!—'Ah, Jack! I saw you looking for me. I knew you would come after me.'"
"Good Heavens!" I cried; "and what did you say?"
"Say? Heavens and earth, man! what could I say? Wasn't I a gentleman? Wasn't she a lady? Hadn't I forced her to commit herself? Didn't I have to assume the responsibility and pocket the consequences? Say! Oh, Macrorie! what is the use of imagination, if a man will not exercise it?"
"And so you're in for it?" said I, after a pause.
"To the depth of several miles," said Jack, relighting his pipe, which in the energy of his narrative had gone out.
"And you don't think of trying to back out?"
"I don't see my way. Then, again, you must know that I've been trying to see if it wouldn't be the wisest thing for me to make the best of my situation."
"Certainly it would, if you cannot possibly get out of it."