★ 21 ★::A Gentleman of Leisure

Loathsome Gifts

There are men so that they can themselves without any particular of emotion. King Solomon to this class, and Henry VIII must have a blasé in time. But to the man the are and overwhelming. A is predominant. Blended with this is relief—the of a who has a difficult to a successful end, or a of a who that the is over and that he is still alive. To this must be added a newly-born of magnificence. Our that we were something out of the ordinary of men is confirmed. Our with complacency, and the world has nothing more to offer.

With some there is an of in the metal of their happiness, and the of an sometimes with it a of regret. “She makes me things,” one swain, in the third of his engagement, was overhead to to a friend. “Two new only yesterday.” He to be himself nature the strain.

But, may cloud the end of the period, its at least is in sunshine.

Jimmy, his in the as he for dinner that night, at the of this best of all possible worlds.

No him. That the relations Mr. McEachern and himself offered a permanent to his he did not believe. For the moment he to the of the ex-constable at all. In a world that Molly there was no room for other people. They were not in the picture. They did not exist.

To him, over the of life, there entered, in the manner to that 139buccaneer, Spike Mullins. It may have been that Jimmy read his own and into the of others, but it to him that there was a of about Spike’s demeanour. The Bowery boy’s on the were almost a dance. His to his hair.

“Well,” said Jimmy, “and how goes the world with Lord FitzMullins? Spike, have you been best man?”

“What’s dat, boss?”

“Best man at a wedding—chap who by the with a hand on the of his to see that he goes through with it. Fellow who looks after everything, the money on to the minister at the end of the ceremony, and then goes off and marries the and after.”

Spike his head.

“I ain’t got no use for gettin’ married, boss.”

“Spike the misogynist! You wait, Spike. Some day love will in your heart, and you’ll start poetry.”

“I’se not of mug, boss,” the Bowery boy. “I ain’t got no use for goils. It’s a mutt’s game.”

This was rank heresy. Jimmy the from of prudence, and to Spike’s darkness.

“Spike, you’re an ass,” he said. “You don’t know anything about it. If you had any at all, you’d that the only thing doing in life is to married. You bone-headed make me ill. Think what it would to you, having a wife. Think of going out on a cold winter’s night to a crib, that there would be a cup of waiting for you when you got back, and your all and comfortable. And then she’d on your knee, and you’d tell her how you the policeman, and you’d the together! Why, I can’t anything cosier. Perhaps there would be little Spikes about the house. Can’t you see them jumping with as you in through the window and told the great news? ‘Fahzer’s killed a pleeceman!’ the tiny, voices. Sweets are out all in of the event. Golden little Jimmy Mullins, my godson, for having a at a plain that afternoon. All is and revelry. Take my word for it, Spike, there’s nothing like domesticity.”

140

“Dere was a once,” said Spike, meditatively. “Only I was her steady. She married a cop.”

“She wasn’t of you, Spike,” said Jimmy sympathetically. “A girl of going to the like that would have done for you. You must up some nice, girl with a for your line of business. Meanwhile, let me shaving, or I shall be late for dinner. Great doings on to-night, Spike.”

Spike animated.

“Sure, boss! Dat’s just what——”

“If you all the blood that will be under this to-night, Spike, into one vat, you’d be able to start a works. Don’t try, though. They mightn’t like it. By the way, have you anything more—of you have. What I is, have you talked at all with that man—the one you think is a detective?”

“Why, boss, dat’s just——”

“I hope, for his own sake, he’s a than my old friend Galer. That man is on my nerves, Spike. He me like a dog. I he’s out in the passage now. Did you see him?”

“Did I! Boss! Why——”