Fifteen thousand a year, liberty
and no alimony."
The moment had come which could no longer be evaded. Lightbody rose,
turned, met the lurking malice in De Gollyer's eyes with the blank
indecision screen of his own, and, turning on his heel, went to a little
closet in the wall, and bore back a decanter and glasses.
"This is not what we serve on the table," he said irrelevantly. "It's
whisky."
De Gollyer poured out his drink and looked at Lightbody _en
connoisseur_.
"You've gone off--old--six years. You were the smartest of the old
crowd, too. You certainly have gone off."
Lightbody listened, with his eyes in his glass.
"Jack, you're middle-aged--you've gone off--badly. It's hit you hard."
There was a moment's silence and then Lightbody spoke quietly:
"Jim!"
"What is it, old boy?"
"Do you want to know the truth?"
"Come--out with it!"
Lightbody struggled a moment, all the hesitation showing in his lips.
Then he said, slowly shaking his head, never lifting his eyes, speaking
as though to another:
"Jim, I've had a hell of a time!"
"Impossible!"
"Yes.
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