He felt it hateful to withhold praise from the dead, and yet a kind of honesty forced him to oppose the habit of lauding all who have just died, since it cheapened the praise of the dead who deserve praise––or what we call “deserve.”
Mamise spoke in a curiously unnatural tone: “It was noble of poor Jake to give his life trying to save the ship, wasn’t it?”
“What’s that?” said Davidge, and she spoke with labored precision.
“I say that you and I, who were the only witnesses, feel sorry that poor Jake had to be killed in the struggle with Easton.”
“Oh, I see! Yes––yes,” said Davidge, understanding.
Mamise went on: “Mr. Larrey was here and he didn’t know who Jake was till I told him how he helped you try to disarm Nicky. It will be a fine thing for poor Abbie and her children to remember that, won’t it?”
Davidge’s heart ached with a sudden appreciation of the sweet purpose of Mamise’s falsehood.
“Yes, yes,” he said. “I’ll give Abbie a pension on his account.”
“That’s beautiful of you!”
And so it was done. It pleased a sardonic fate to let Jake Nuddle pose in his tomb as the benefactor he had always pretended to be.