istory of dissipation was written legibly in his
eyes and he had a disconcerting way of jerking his head.

"Damn it all! I guess you're not tickled to death to see me. And I need
hardly say that if I hadn't been drunk, I wouldn't have turned up at old
Amzi's on the night of that kid's coming-out party. Drunk when I struck
town--hadn't been feeling well, and fell in with some old friends at
Indianapolis and filled up. Hope you'll overlook my little
indiscretions. Reckon the town would have found out I was here soon
enough and there's nothing like coming right out in the open. When they
told me at your house you were at Amzi's, I couldn't believe it and I
was just drunk enough to want to investigate."

William muttered something that Jack preferred to ignore.

"Well, I wasn't so drunk I didn't take in Kirkwood. Old Tom has held his
own pretty well; but he's the type Time don't batter much. I'd thought a
good deal about what might happen if we ever met--had rather figured on
a little pistol work; but Lord! it's funny how damned soon we get over
these things. Trifles, Will, trifles--bubbles of human experience that
vanish in thin air. Damn it all! life's a queer business. We put our
faith in women and they're a bad investment, damned uncertain and
devilish hard to please, and shake you when the night falleth and you
need a prop to lean on. By the way, your own consort ducked me this
morning; I had to have breakfast alone, with only one of Africa's
haughty daughters to break my eggs. I hope madam your wife is well. By
the way, has she given any hostages to fortune? Thought I hadn't heard
of it. You've treated me in a hell of a little brotherly fashion, Will.
If it hadn't been for Sam, who was a true sport if I know one, I
shouldn't have known anything about you, dead or alive."

William had listened with an almost imperceptible frown while he
minutely studied his brother. The items he collected were not calculated
to inspire confidence or quicken fraternal feeling. Jack, whom he
remembered as fastidious in old times, was sadly crumpled. The cuffs of
his colored shirt were frayed; there were spots on his tie, and his
clothes looked as though they had been slept in. The lining of the
ulster he had thrown across a chair had been patched, and threads hung
where his legs had rubbed it. The impressions reflected in William's
eyes were increasingly disagreeable ones, as he diagnosed moral,
physical, and financial decrepitude. It