I hate the revolver, but I am glad that I took to carrying one in time.
Jerry and I grew so intimate, and I saw so much of his inner mind, that
I judged it better to make no midnight excursions in his company without
being ready for accidents. He is most humorous when he has wine in him,
and his humour is a shade too grim for my taste.
We came home lately in a cab, after seeing a pretty little light-weight
from Birmingham receive a severe dressing at the hands of a pocket
Hercules from Bethnal Green. Jerry was in wild spirits, and his usual
charming smile had broadened into a grin. Nothing would suit him but
that I should go to his rooms.
"My aunt keeps house for me, and she's sure to be up, and my sister's
there as well."
The notion of Jerry's dwelling calmly with his aunt and his sister was
very touching, and my curiosity was roused. The aunt turned out to be a
placid woman with a low voice; the sister was too florid and loud for my
fancy. We played at whist, and in the intervals between the games we
tested Jerry's wine.
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