Let me ramble on.

Here am I, an idler in my boyhood, a harmless pleasure-seeker in my youth till I ran up against tragedy, and since then a drifter, a drifter with a slowly growing vice, lolling through life with no definite purpose, with no definite hope or wish, except," he went on a little drowsily, "that I think I'd like to be buried somewhere near the base of those mountains, on the other side of the river, from behind which you say the sun comes up every morning like a world on fire." "You talk foolishly," Von Ragastein protested.

"If there has been tragedy in your life, you have time to get over it.

You are not yet forty years old." "Then I turn and consider you," Dominey continued, ignoring altogether his friend's remark.

"You are only my age, and you look ten years younger.