When he knew
that Ingolby had saved him, his strength gave way, and he trembled
violently. Ingolby looked round and saw a jug of water. Pouring out a
glassful, he thrust it into the fat, wrinkled fingers.
"Drink and pull yourself together," he said sternly. The shaken figure
straightened itself, and the water was gulped down. "I thank you," he
said in a husky voice.
"You see I treated you fairly, and that you've been a fool?" Ingolby
asked with no lessened determination.
"I have tried to atone, and--"
"No, you haven't had the right spirit to atone. You were fat with vanity
and self-conceit. I've watched you."
"In future I will--"
"Well, that rests with yourself, but your health is bad, and you're not
going to take the funeral tomorrow. You've had a sudden breakdown, and
you're going to get a call from some church in the East--as far East as
Yokohama or Bagdad, I hope; and leave here in a few weeks. You
understand? I've thought the thing out, and you've got to go. You'll do
no good to yourself or others here. Take my advice, and wherever you go,
walk six miles a day at least, work in a garden, eat half as much as you
do, and be good to your wife.
Pages:
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55