"Nothing, nothing, nothing!"

"Nothing but starve. How about meeting expenses?"

"Why do you ask?" said my friend. "You don't care."

"My dear fellow, if you want to make me offer you twenty pounds
you set most clumsily about it. You said just now I don't know
you," Mr. Simmons went on. "Possibly. Come back with me then," he
said kindly enough, "and let's improve our acquaintance."

"I won't go back. I shall never go back."

"Never?"

"Never."

Mr. Simmons thought it shrewdly over. "Well, you ARE sick!" he
exclaimed presently. "All I can say is that if you're working out
a plan for cold poison, or for any other act of desperation, you
had better give it right up. You can't get a dose of the
commonest kind of cold poison for nothing, you know. Look here,
Searle"--and the worthy man made what struck me as a very decent
appeal. "If you'll consent to return home with me by the steamer
of the twenty-third I'll pay your passage down. More than that,
I'll pay for your beer."

My poor gentleman met it. "I believe I never made up my mind to
anything before, but I think it's made up now. I shall stay here