And Betteredge, on his side, begins to "face it," too.
The picture which I am now presenting of myself, will, I suspect,
be thought a very strange one, to say the least of it. Placed in a
situation which may, I think, be described as entirely without parallel,
what is the first proceeding to which I resort? Do I seclude myself
from all human society? Do I set my mind to analyse the abominable
impossibility which, nevertheless, confronts me as an undeniable fact?
Do I hurry back to London by the first train to consult the highest
authorities, and to set a searching inquiry on foot immediately? No.
I accept the shelter of a house which I had resolved never to degrade
myself by entering again; and I sit, tippling spirits and water in the
company of an old servant, at ten o'clock in the morning. Is this the
conduct that might have been expected from a man placed in my horrible
position? I can only answer that the sight of old Betteredge's familiar
face was an inexpressible comfort to me, and that the drinking of old
Betteredge's grog helped me, as I believe nothing else would have helped
me, in the state of complete bodily and mental prostration into which
I had fallen.
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