“What? You can’t see anything funny in it? Gee, Phil!––but you’re dull. Eileen Pederstone hitched to Wayward Langford, booze fighter, ne’er-do-weel, good-for-nothing, never-worked-and-never-will; a-penny-a-liner; Aunt Christina and Captain Mayne Plunkett!”
He became sober again.
“Man, Phil!––I’m ashamed of you even suggesting it. I once fell in love. Don’t get anxious; it was a long time ago when I had ambitions of becoming Lord Chief Justice, or at least a High Court Judge.”
“Yes!”
“The lady and I fell out over her father. He asked me one night how much money I had in the bank. I was eighteen.
“I told him I had twenty pounds.
“‘Tuts, tuts!’ said the old fellow, who was one of those human fireworks––all fizzle and flare,––‘that isn’t enough to keep a cat.’
“‘We know it,’ I answered, speaking for both of us, ‘but we thought we might manage to run along for a while without the cat.’”
Phil laughed.