and set
lips--to pour forth enormous volumes of smoke.

My own pipe was very well under way, and I sat opposite, watching him
in wonder. I studied his face, and marked there what I had never before
seen upon it--a preoccupied and troubled expression. Now, Jack's
features, by long indulgence in the gayer emotions, had immovably
moulded themselves into an expression of joyousness and hilarity.
Unnatural was it for the merry twinkle to be extinguished in his eyes;
for the corners of the mouth, which usually curled upward, to settle
downward; for the general shape of feature, cut-line of muscle, set of
lips, to undertake to become the exponents of feelings to which they
were totally unaccustomed. On this occasion, therefore, Jack's face did
not appear so much mournful as dismal; and, where another face might
have elicited sympathy, Jack's face had such a grewsomeness, such an
utter incongruity between feature and expression, that it seemed only
droll.

I bore this inexplicable conduct as long as I could, but at length I
could stand it no longer.

"My dear Jack," said I, "would it be too much to ask, in the mildest
manner in the world, and with all possible regard for your feelings,
what, in the name of the Old Boy, happens to be up just now?"

Jack took the pipe from his mouth, sent a long cloud of smoke forward
in a straight line, then looked at me, then heaved a deep sigh, and
then--replaced the pipe, and began smoking once more.

Under such circumstances I did not know what to do next, so I took up
again the study of his face.

"Heard no bad news, I hope," I said at length, making another venture
between the puffs of my pipe.

A shake of the head.

Silence again.

"Duns?"

Another shake.

Silence.

"Writs?"

Another shake.

Silence.

"Liver?"

Another shake, together with a contemptuous smile.

"Then I give it up," said I, and betook myself once more to my pipe.

After a time, Jack gave a long sigh, and regarded me fixedly for some
minutes, with a very doleful face. Then he slowly ejaculated:

"Macrorie!"

"Well?"

"It's a woman!"

"A woman? Well. What's that? Why need that make any particular
difference to you, my boy?"

He sighed again, more dolefully than before.

"I'm in for it, old chap," said he.

"How's that?"

"It's all over."

"What do you mean?"

"Done up, sir--dead and gone!"

"I'll be hanged if I understand you."

"_Hic jacet_ Johannes Randolph."

"You're takin