ng on.
There's no news. The government seem to be in a mess, but even their own
friends are ashamed of their vacillation. They're talking of still
another lyric theatre; you'll have to save up your voice, Linn--by Jove!
you fellows will be in tremendous request. What else? Oh, nothing.
There's been a plucky thing done by a servant-girl in rescuing two
children from a fire--if there's a little testimonial to her, I'm in
with my humble guinea. But there's nothing in the papers--I'm glad I'm
not a leader-writer."

He went and got some more water for a jug of white lilies that stood on
the table, and began to put things a little straight--as if he were a
woman.

"Maurice!"

"You're not to talk, Linn, I tell you!"

"I must--just a word," Lionel said, and Mangan was forced to listen.
"What does the doctor really say?"

"About you?--oh, you're going on first-rate! Only you've to keep still
and quiet and not trouble about anything."

"What day is this?"

"Why, Tuesday."

He thought for a little.

"It--it was a Saturday I was taken ill? I have forgotten so many things.
But--but there's this, Maurice; if anything happens to me--the piano in
the next room--it belongs to me--you will give that to Francie for her
wedding-present. I would have--given her something more, but you know.
And if you ever hear of Nina Rossi, will you ask her to--to take some of
the things in a box you'll find on the top of the piano--they all
belonged to her--if she won't take them all back, she must take some--as
a--as a keepsake. She ought to do that. Perhaps she won't think I
treated her so badly--when it's all over--"

He lay back exhausted with this effort.

"Oh, stuff and nonsense, Linn!" his friend exclaimed, in apparent anger.
"What's the use of talking like that! You know you were worried into
this illness, and I want to explain to you that you needn't worry any
longer, that you've nothing to do but get well! Now listen--and be
quiet. To begin with, Lord Rockminster has got his three hundred
pounds--"

"I remember about that--it was awfully good of you, Maurice--"

"Be quiet. Then there's that diabolical eleven hundred pounds. Well,
things have to be faced," continued Mangan, with a matter-of-fact air.
"It's no use sighing and groaning when you or your friends are in a
pickle; you've just got to make the best of it. Very well. Do you see
this slip of paper?--this is a check for eleven hundred pounds, drawn
out and signed by me,