"Until then, those who are in a position like myself must contrive to exist somehow?"
"That's it."
"Unfortunately, I never settled, as you know, a farthing on my wife; and as for my life-insurance, they illogically and unreasonably exclude suicide from their list of casualties. Your ordinary suicide does not compass his own death any more doggedly than the man who persists in living in an undrained house, or in drinking brandy until his brain gives way, or in lighting his pipe in a coal-mine. However, that's neither here nor there. You have been my lawyer, Mr. Green, for a great many years, and you have given me some good advice. But at the most critical moment, I find you without a scrap. Still I bear you no malice; for I don't owe you any money."
"It isn't very easy, sir, to tell a gentleman how to recover his fortune," said Mr. Green, with a smile—glad that his client was taking matters so coolly.
"I was a gentleman three days ago," said Mr. Anerley. "Now I am a man, very anxious to live, and not seeing my way clearly towards that end."
"Come, sir," said Will, "Mr. Green is anxious to live too; and we are taking up his time."
"But really, Mr. Anerley," said the lawyer, "I should like to know what your views are?"
"Ah, you want to know what I propose to do. I am not good at blacking boots; I am indifferent at cookery. Gardening—well, no. I should like to be head-keeper to a duke; or, if they start any more of these fancy stage-coaches between London and the seaside, I can drive pretty well."
"You are joking," said the other, dubiously.
"A man with empty pockets never jokes, unless he hopes to fill them. At present—well, good day to you—you will let me know if you hear of anything to my advantage."