"But in any case I wouldn't go, nor would you. I still am quite unable
to understand you. Why you should grow desperate, and swear at
yourself, and then propose South America, is quite beyond me. Above
all, I don't yet see any reason why you should give up your
child-angel. You were all raptures but a short time since. Why are you
so cold now?"

"I'll tell you," said Dacres.

"So you said ever so long ago."

"It's a sore subject, and difficult to speak about."

"Well, old man, I'm sorry for you; and don't speak about it at all if
it gives you pain."

"Oh, I'll make a clean breast of it. You've told your affair, and I'll
tell mine. I dare say I'll feel all the better for it."

"Drive on, then, old man."

Dacres rose, took a couple of glasses of beer in quick succession,
then resumed his seat, then picked out a cigar from the box with
unusual fastidiousness, then drew a match, then lighted the cigar,
then sent out a dozen heavy volumes of smoke, which encircled him so
completely that he became quite concealed from Hawbury's view. But
even this cloud did not seem sufficient to correspond with the gloom
of his soul. Other clouds rolled forth, and still others, until all
their congregated folds encircled him, and in the midst there was a