When Burton had brought me my coffee, and Archie had put himself outside a soda, tempered, he began.
"Don't laugh at me, old chap." Of course, when he told me not to laugh, I was at once upon the grin--it's human nature. But he went on, "I am a miserable wretch, I swear I am."
"Who says you aren't?"
"What a muck I've made of things!"
"Who denies it? Give me the rascal's name?"
"And I might have been a respectable chap once, if I had liked."
"My dear Archie! When?"
He was too woebegone to heed my chaff. He went and leaned his elbow on my mantelshelf, and his head upon his hand.
"Reggie, I've been thinking that you and I ought to cut the Jardines."
"The deuce, you have!"