"Good!" said I, and tossed him a shilling.
"What's this 'ere for?" he enquired.
"The exercise you have afforded me; it has done me good, chased the dusty cobwebs from my brain, stimulated more healthy thought. Life perchance is not all dust and ashes nor the world a pit of noisome gloom; some day even I may learn perhaps to be—almost happy—"
"Lord, sir, you sound as if you'd been crossed an' double-crossed in love, you do—"
"Ah—what do you mean?"
"No offence, sir! But y' see, I were in love once—ah, an' with a sweet purty lass an' she wi' me, but afore I could marry 'er she bolted along of a circus cove in a scarlet, laced coat an' whip, d'ye see."
"Extremely feminine!" said I, nodding.
"May be, sir, but one day she come creepin' back to me, very 'eart-broke an' shameful, pore lass; seems the circus cove, growin' tired-like, 'ad took to usin' 'is whip on 'er—an' so she come a-creepin' back to me."
"And what then?"
"Why, then, o' course I married 'er."