' Paul answered stiffly. 'I don't care to
continue this conversation, and I will take the liberty to end it.'

'I say,' said the Colonel, 'wait there. I never began a quarrel in my
life, Mr. Armstrong, but I have ended--lemme see----' He began to count
upon his fingers with an inward look. 'I have ended eight,' he said.

'Do you wish to quarrel now?' Paul demanded.

'Why, no, sir, no,' said the Colonel; 'I am a man of peace. But when you
presoom, sir, to dictate what a man shall drink, and when you presoom
to object to the theme upon which he chooses to converse--why, don't you
see?'

'No,' said Paul, 'I do not see. If you choose to renew this conversation
to-morrow, that is my hotel, and I shall be pleased to meet you there at
any hour before noon.'

'Now,' the Colonel answered, taking him by the sleeve in alcoholic
friendship, 'you are becoming shirty, and your tone is warlike. And
that, Mr. Armstrong, is unreasonable. Perhaps you know now that I am an
old traveller. I'm a little bit of an explorer, sir, and I have never
objected to being guided over a bit of country that I didn't know, if
I happened to meet a man that knew it Now, that's enough said, Mr.
Armstrong. If you find my conversation distasteful, just damn my eyes
and go. But don't you let me hear you. You can curse outside to your
heart's content, and, you see, that needn't breed a quarrel.'

'Very well,' said Paul. The Solemn drunken man made him laugh in spite
of his own anger and bewildered misery of mind. 'Whatever cursing I may
have to do shall be done outside.'

'Good,' the Colonel answered, and having by this time eaten his cigar to
its burned ash, he ejected the remnant and permitted Paul to escape.

As he came out upon the mild widespread sunshine of the street at the
close of the afternoon, he seemed to realize himself for the first time
in his whole life. He did not trouble himself to curse the Colonel,
but he cursed Paul Armstrong soundly, and, striding rapidly towards his
hotel, resolved on instant action. He mounted to his own room, and there
he wrote a letter.

'I must see you,' it ran, 'and I must see you to-day. I must catch
to-morrow's train for London, and I cannot guess when I may be able to
return. I have neglected both work and business too long, and I must
shake myself awake. On the whole, perhaps the kindest and best thing you
could do for me would be to send me away for good and all. I have lived
in a fool's dream too long