lton.

"Pity! Think of the pleasures of oblivion! Oi 'm dhrunk every night."

"How long will you last at that rate?"

"There speaks the Englishman! Why should Oi give up me only pleasure
to keep me wretched life in? If you've anything left worth the keeping
shober for, keep shober by all means; if not, the sooner you are dhrunk
the better--that stands to reason."

In the corridor Shelton asked the Frenchman where the old man came from.

"Oh, and Englishman! Yes, yes, from Belfast very drunken old man. You
are a drunken nation"--he made a motion with his hands "he no longer
eats--no inside left. It is unfortunate-a man of spirit. If you have
never seen one of these palaces, monsieur, I shall be happy to show you
over it."

Shelton took out his cigarette case.

"Yes, yes," said the Frenchman, making a wry nose and taking a
cigarette; "I'm accustomed to it. But you're wise to fumigate the air;
one is n't in a harem."

And Shelton felt ashamed of his fastidiousness.

"This," said the guide, leading him up-stairs and opening a door, "is
a specimen of the apartments reserved for these princes of the blood."
There were four empty beds on iron legs, and, with the air of a showman,
the Frenchman twitched away a dingy quilt. "They go out in the mornings,
earn enough to make them drunk, sleep it off, and then begin again.
That's their life. There are people who think they ought to be reformed.
'Mon cher monsieur', one must face reality a little, even in this
country. It would be a hundred times better for these people to spend
their time reforming high Society. Your high Society makes all these
creatures; there's no harvest without cutting stalks. 'Selon moi'," he
continued, putting back the quilt, and dribbling cigarette smoke through
his nose, "there's no grand difference between your high Society
and these individuals here; both want pleasure, both think only of
themselves, which is very natural. One lot have had the luck, the
other--well, you see." He shrugged. "A common set! I've been robbed
here half a dozen times. If you have new shoes, a good waistcoat,
an overcoat, you want eyes in the back of your head. And they are
populated! Change your bed, and you'll run all the dangers of not
sleeping alone. 'V'la ma clientele'! The half of them don't pay me!" He,
snapped his yellow sticks of fingers. "A penny for a shave, twopence
a cut! 'Quelle vie'! Here," he continued, standing by a bed, "is a
gentleman who owes me fi