onfound me. This,
then, explained his mental condition, his relapse to drink again--his
madness on the subject of pajamas. It was _awful_! By Jove, as I lay
there thinking of his suspicions and diseased imaginings induced by his
monstrous folly of drink--the awful curse of drink--and of what it had
almost brought upon two innocent lives, I felt indignant--almost sick.
Lay there helpless, wishing Jenkins would come, and wondering if I
wasn't getting a bit feverish--mouth dry and craving moisture, you know.
But not a thing could I find in the room except a glass--and empty.
Carafe beside it, but nothing in it but water, you know, and a large,
round ball of ice. So just had to fall back on the couch and try not to
think of my throbbing, swollen tongue.

Mind got to wandering then, I think. Thought of Frances and how much I
loved her, and of cooling streams--fizzy and gurgling--and of amber
fountains, crested with sparkling, pearly sunbursts--_you_ know! I even
got to wondering if she really loved me--fact! And then came the
disquieting thought of how devilish disappointing and awful it _would_
be if Jenkins should forget a stock of my Egyptian Koroskos. What _was_
it she had told me that night about being engaged to another and wanting
to be free, now that she had met me--the darling! Then, dash me if I
could remember to save me whether Jenkins had or had not said something
to me that morning about packing my ashes-of-roses socks and ties--or
was it about my lilac silk underwear with the mauve fleur-de-lis?
Devilish annoying I couldn't remember. Of course it was this that was
making her so reticent and offish about any reference to the other
night--I mean it was this thing of being entangled with this other chap.
So jolly sensitive and high-minded, don't you know, she didn't want to
talk about _our_ future until she had dumped the other fellow in the
road--that was it.

Struck me suddenly that there was some jolly proverb thing about it:
something about the old love and the new--some dashed wise, old, musty
rot about _that_. What the deuce was it?

And luckily, just then Jenkins came!

And when he had laid out my things, and I found I was to wear a scarf of
Harvard crimson--the color _she_ admired--I was so devilish pleased and
grateful to Jenkins for the decision that I thought that now I would let
him have a try at the proverb.

"I say, Jenkins," I began carelessly, "there's some jolly saying or
proverb--eh, _you_