Sym. To be sure! I never thought of that! And, as you say, a man can die but once.
Ch. I beg your pardon. I didn’t say anything of the kind—you said it; but it’s true, for all that.
Sym. I’m very sorry; but, of course, if you have made up your mind to it——
Ch. Why, when a man’s lost everything, what has he to live for?
Sym. True, true. Nothing whatever. Still——
Ch. His money gone, his credit gone, the three girls he’s engaged to gone.
Sym. I cannot deny it. It is a hopeless situation. Hopeless, quite hopeless.
Ch. His happiness wrecked, his hopes blighted; the three trees upon which the fruit of his heart was growing—all cut down. What is left but suicide?
Sym. True, true! You’re quite right. Farewell. (Going.)