"What? Why, the widow—no, the—the elopement, of course. Yes," I continued, firmly, "put off the elopement."
"Put off the elopement!" ejaculated Jack. "What! after proposing it so desperately—after threatening to blow my brains out in front of her door?"
"That certainly is a consideration," said I, thoughtfully; "but can't you have—well, brain-fever—yes, that's it, and can't you get some friend to send word to her?"
"That's all very well; but, you see, I'd have to keep my room. If I went out, she'd hear of it. She's got a wonderful way of hearing about my movements. She'll find out about the widow before the week's over. Oh, no! that's not to be done."
"Well, then," said I, desperately, "let her find it out. The blow would then fall a little more gently."
"You seem to me," said Jack, rather huffily, "to propose that I should quietly proceed to break her heart. No! Hang it, man, if it comes to that I'll do it openly, and make a clean breast of it, without shamming or keeping her in suspense."
"Well, then," I responded, "why not break off with the widow?"
"Break off with the widow!" cried Jack, with the wondering accent of a man who has heard some impossible proposal.
"Certainly; why not?"
"Will you be kind enough to inform me what thing short of death could ever deliver me out of her hands?" asked Jack, mildly.