Yet, instead of being thankful, I was profoundly wretched. I moped and
sulked; I fell each day into a deeper, more consistent gloom. I tried
grimly to regain my strength, with a view to seeking other quarters.
While I stayed here I was the guest of the Firefly of France; and though
I admired him,--I should have been a cad, a quitter, a poor loser,
everything I had ever held anathema in days gone by, not to do
so,--still I couldn't feel toward him as a man should feel toward his
host; not in the least!
On three separate occasions Dunny motored up to Paris, bringing back
as the fruits of his first excursion my baggage from the Ritz. I was
clothed again, in my right mind; except for my swathed head, I looked
highly civilized. The day when I had raced hither and yon, and fought an
unbelievable battle in a dark hall, and insanely masqueraded first in
a leather coat, then in a pale-blue uniform, seemed dim and far-off
indeed.
"It was a nice hashish dream," I told my mirrored image. "But it wasn't
real, my lad, for a moment; such things don't happen to folks like you.
Pages:
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286