his letters that he was in no condition to resist. How had he sacrificed the absent?
“Jim,” I said, “you must speak right out. I've got all that I can carry.”
“Well,” he said—“I know it was a liberty—I made it out you were no business man, only a stone-broke painter; that half the time you didn't know anything anyway, particularly money and accounts. I said you never could be got to understand whose was whose. I had to say that because of some entries in the books——”
“For God's sake,” I cried, “put me out of this agony! What did you accuse me of?”
“Accuse you of?” repeated Jim. “Of what I'm telling you. And there being no deed of partnership, I made out you were only a kind of clerk that I called a partner just to give you taffy; and so I got you ranked a creditor on the estate for your wages and the money you had lent. And——”
I believe I reeled. “A creditor!” I roared; “a creditor! I'm not in the bankruptcy at all?”
“No,” said Jim. “I know it was a liberty——”
“Oh damn your liberty! read that,” I cried, dashing the letter before him on the table, “and call in your wife, and be done with eating this truck”—as I spoke, I slung the cold mutton in the empty grate—“and let's all go and have a champagne supper. I've dined—I'm sure I don't remember what I had; I'd dine again ten scores of times upon a night like this. Read it, you blaying ass! I'm not insane. Here, Mamie,” I continued, opening the bedroom door, “come out and make it up with me, and go and kiss your husband; and I'll tell you what, after the supper, let's go to some place where there's a band, and I'll waltz with you till sunrise.”
“What does it all mean?” cried Jim. “It means we have a champagne supper to-night,
