"The docthor touched the long black hair av her head ('twas all
loose upon Love-o'-Women's chest), an' that cleared the liquor out
av him. He stud considherin' a long time, his hands in his
pockets, an' at last he sez to me, 'Here's a double death from
naturil causes, most naturil causes; an' in the presint state av
affairs the rig'mint will be thankful for wan grave the less to
dig. Issiwasti,' he sez, 'Issiwasti, Privit Mulvaney, these two
will be buried together in the Civil Cemet'ry at my expinse, an'
may the good God,' he sez, 'make it SO much for me whin my time
comes. Go to your wife,' he sez; 'go an' be happy. I'll see to
this all.'

"I left him still considherin'. They was buried in the Civil
Cemet'ry together, wid a Church of England service. There was too
many buryin's thin to ask questions, an' the docthor - he ran away
wid Major - Major Van Dyce's lady that year - he saw to ut all.
Fwhat the right an' the wrong av Love-o'-Women an' Di'monds-an'-
Pearls was I niver knew, an' I will niver know; but I've tould ut
as I came acrost ut - here an' there in little pieces. So, being
fwhat I am, an' knowin' fwhat I know, that's fwhy I say in this
shootin'-case here, Mackie that's dead an' in hell is the lucky
man. There are times, Sorr, whin 'tis betther for the man to die
than to live, an' by consequince forty million times betther for
the woman."

"H'up there!" said Ortheris. "It's time to go." The witnesses and
guard formed up in the thick white dust of the parched twilight
and swung off, marching easy and whistling. Down the road to the
green by the church I could hear Ortheris, the black Book-lie
still uncleansed on his lips, setting, with a fine sense of the