"But, you see, for a fellow like me it may be best not to get out of it. You see, after all, I like her very well. She's an awfully fine woman—splendid action. I've been round there ever so much; we've always been deuced thick; and she's got a kind of way with her that a fellow like me can't resist. And, then, it's time for me to begin to think of settling down. I'm getting awfully old. I'll be twenty-three next August. And then, you know, I'm so deuced hard up. I've got to the end of my rope, and you are aware that the sheriff is beginning to be familiar with my name. Yes, I think for the credit of the regiment I'd better take the widow. She's got thirty thousand pounds, at least."
"And a very nice face and figure along with it," said I, encouragingly.
"That's a fact, or else I could never have mistaken her for poor little
Louie, and this wouldn't have happened. But, if it had only been little
Louie—well, well; I suppose it must be, and perhaps it's the best
thing."
"If it had been Louie," said I, with new efforts at encouragement, "it wouldn't have been any better for you."
"No; that's a fact. You see, I was never so much bothered in my life. I don't mind an ordinary scrape; but I can't exactly see my way out of this."
"You'll have to break the news to Miss Phillips."
"And that's not the worst," said Jack, with a sigh that was like a groan.
"Not the worst? What can be worse than that?"
"My dear boy, you have not begun to see even the outside of the peculiarly complicated nature of my present situation. There are other circumstances to which all these may be playfully represented as a joke."
"Well, that is certainly a strong way of putting it."