“‘I know a good one,’ said I, ‘handy to your boat. I’ll see you on board to-morrow. The Marloo leaves in the afternoon. I can give you letters to some people on “the field” as they call it.’
“We went to ‘Scott’s,’ where I arranged certain things with the management. So that when the Colonel paid his bill next day, and we left together in a cab for the Marloo, he told his wife that the charges were most reasonable. She looked at me with a meaning glance and wrung my hand as the Colonel hurried off with the luggage. ‘You’re a good fellow,’ she said, ‘though it’s late in the day to find it out. You’ve had your revenge, haven’t you? Are you going to get married?’
“‘Yes,’ said I, ‘next week.’
“‘I wish you joy, with all my heart, what there is of it, that is. Is she beautiful, innocent, devoted to you?’
“‘All that,’ said I, ‘and more.’
“‘Then tell her my story, and when for vanity, pleasure, or the tinsel trappings of society she is tempted to stray from the simple faith of her youth (I had it once, strange to say), let her think of me as I am now, poverty-stricken, degraded, and, except for poor Jack, whom I have dragged down to ruin with me, without a friend in the world.’
“‘While I live,’ said I, ‘you must not say that.’
“‘I know—I know,’ and the tears fell from her eyes, changed as she was, from all that she had been in her day of pride. ‘But we can take nothing from you, of all men. God bless you!’
“Here came the Colonel. ‘Come along, Addie, we shall be left behind. Ta-ta, Blount, you’re a dashed good fellow, too good altogether, if you ask me. We’ll let you know how we get on.’