such word as 'jail.'",

"Sir?"

"In simpler and more archaic phrase, I can't afford you, Burgess,
unless I pilfer for a living."

"I don't eat much, sir."

"No, you don't _eat_ much."

"I could quit drinking, sir."

"_That_ is really touching, Burgess. This alcohol pickled
integument of yours covers a trusting heart. But it won't do.
Heroics in a hall bedroom cut no coupons, my poor friend. Our
paths to glory and the grave part just outside the door-sill
yonder."

"_She_ said I could stay, sir."

"Which _she_?"

"The landlady. I'm to fetch coal and run errants and wait on
table. But you'll get the best cuts, sir. And after hours I can
see to your clothes and linen and boots and hats, and do your
errants same like the usual."

"Now this is nearly as pathetic as our best fiction," said Berkley;
"ruined master, faithful man--_won't_ leave--starves slowly at his