empty illusion--and now it's all over. My eyes are open."

"You may as well open my eyes too; for I'll be hanged if I can see my
way through this!"

"Strange! strange! strange!" continued Dacres, in a kind of soliloquy,
not noticing Hawbury's words. "How a man will sometimes forget
realities, and give himself up to dreams! It was my dream of the
child-angel that so turned my brain. I must see her no more."

"Very well, old boy," said Hawbury. "Now speak Chinese a little for
variety. I'll understand you quite as well. I will, by Jove!"

"And then, for a fellow that's had an experience like mine--before and
since," continued Dacres, still speaking in the tone of one who was
meditating aloud--"to allow such an idea even for a moment to take
shape in his brain! What an utter, unmitigated, unmanageable, and
unimprovable idiot, ass, dolt, and blockhead! Confound such a man! I
say; confound him!"

[Illustration: "CONFOUND SUCH A MAN! I SAY."]

And as Dacres said this he brought his fist down upon the table near
him with such an energetic crash that a wine-flask was sent spinning
on the floor, where its ruby contents splashed out in a pool,
intermingled with fragments of glass.

Dacres was startled by the crash, and looked at it for a while in
silence. Then he raised his head and looked at his friend. Hawbury
encountered his glance without any expression. He merely sat and