Let me hold your hand. I feel like an old woman. Give me a
mouthful of brandy. Ah, that's better! Innkeeper, your courage is not
to be doubted, but your judgment of liquor is. Any way, Jack, I
suppose you will not forget me in a week or so, eh?"
"Dan!" was all I could say, bending over his hand to hide my tears.
"Jack, you are not sorry?"
"Dan, you are more to me than any woman in the world."
"Oh, say! You wouldn't--hold me up a bit higher; that's it--you
wouldn't have me hang on now, would you? I haven't anything to live
for, no matter how you put it. Home? I never had one. The only
regret I have in leaving is that the Prince will not keep me company.
Put an obol in my hand, and Charon will see me over the Styx.
"And when, like her, O Saki, you shall pass
Among the guests star-scattered on the grass,
And in your joyous errand, reach the spot
Where I made one--turn down an empty glass!
"Well, hang me, Jack, if you aren't crying! Then you thought more of
me than I believed; a man's tears mean more than a woman's. . . . A
man must die, and what is a year or two? How much better to fold the
tent when living becomes tasteless and the cup is full of lees! .
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