'So do I,' said Jerry, angrily; 'and it is bad form for women to have histories or mysteries either.'
'Sour grapes, Jerry,' said Dalton, still laughing.
'I thought you were hit a little in that quarter yourself, Tony; but I am much mistaken if there is not more in her life than you know, or any of us is ever likely to know.'
Dalton, though secretly pleased that Jerry had not met with success, was also secretly provoked at what he deemed the young fellow's over-confidence. He had felt himself—he knew not why—curiously affected when in the presence of Laura Trelawney; there was a subtle influence in her voice and smile that wakened old memories and strangely bewildered him; and especially when she sang, these stole over him and seemed to take tangible form.
'And now, I suppose,' said Jerry, as he manipulated a cigar, 'I must just do as she probably did when the "late lamented" took himself off.'
'What is that?'
'"Drop some natural tears and wipe them soon," as Milton has it.'
'I'll give you another quotation, Jerry—what does Abou Adhem say?'
'Don't know—never heard of the fellow.'
'"Your lost love is neither the beginning nor ending of life. Several things remain to you. She is false, and you are the victim. Very good. Nature is not going into bankruptcy; the sun will rise and set just the same; corn will grow, birds sing, and the rain fall just as before. My experience is, that it's a toss up that you are not the better without her, and she not better without you."'