Just
outside, I stopped and lighted a cigar to give me
greater countenance; and puffing this and wearing what
(I am sure) was a wretched assumption of braggadocio, I
reappeared on the scene of my disgrace.
My friend and his wife were finishing a poor meal--rags
of old mutton, the remainder cakes from breakfast eaten
cold, and a starveling pot of coffee.
"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Pinkerton," said I. "Sorry to
inflict my presence where it cannot be desired; but
there is a piece of business necessary to be
discussed."
"Pray do not consider me," said Mamie, rising, and she
sailed into the adjoining bedroom.
Jim watched her go and shook his head; he looked
miserably old and ill.
"What is it now?" he asked.
"Perhaps you remember you answered none of my
questions," said I.
"Your questions?" faltered Jim.
"Even so, Jim; my questions," I repeated. "I put
questions as well as yourself; and however little I may
have satisfied Mamie with my answers, I beg to remind
you that you gave me none at all."
"You mean about the bankruptcy?" asked Jim.
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