Jack sighed heavily, and quaffed some Bass.
"But how the mischief could you handle such a subject? Two hours! I should think so. For my part, I don't see how you managed it at all."
"Oh, I got through," said Jack. "I explained it all, you know. I cleared up every thing in the completest way. In fact, I made a full, perfect, intelligible, ample, and satisfactory explanation—"
"Oh, that's all downright bosh now, old boy," I interrupted. "How could you explain it? It can't be explained."
"But I did though," said Jack. "I don't remember how. I only know the letter struck me as just the thing, and I dropped it into the post-office when on my way to the widow's."
"The widow's?"
"Yes, as soon as I finished the letter, I hurried off to the widow's."
"By Jove!" I cried, aghast "So that's the style of thing, is it? Look here, old man, will you allow me to ask you, in the mildest manner in the world, how long you consider yourself able to keep up this sort of thing?"
"Allow you? Certainly not. No questions, old chap. I don't question myself, and I'll be hanged if I'll let anybody else. I'm among the breakers. I'm whirling down-stream. I have a strong sense of the aptness of Louie's idea about the juggler and the oranges. But the worst of it is, I'm beginning to lose confidence in myself."
And Jack leaned his head back, and sent out a long beam of smoke that flew straight up and hit the ceiling. After which he stared at me in unutterable solemnity.