“About the first of March I was twenty-three; since then I have grown so old I have lost the reckoning.”
“I’ll have to give you quinine, my boy.”
“Give me some of the tincture of Lethe.”
“It is of no use to one to forget; don’t be soft.”
“Let us reason together, Sawbones.”
The Doctor agreed, and Osgood began his story with, “Poor Peter,” and finished it with asking, “Do you think I love her?”
“I’ll bet a guinea,” said the Doctor, “that she is married.”
“She isn’t,” replied Osgood, indignantly.
“I am sure that she is engaged, as you call it, to somebody besides yourself.”
“I know better.”