I rattled the ice in the glass.

"Ha, ha, ha!" I roared, as the events of the past twenty-four hours recurred to me.

There must have been a suicidal accent to my laughter, for the bartender looked at me with some concern.

I called for another brandy and shot the soda into it myself.
I watched the foam evaporate, "Ha, ha, ha!" "Hard luck ?" the bartender asked sympathetically.
"Yes," said I.

I seemed to be speaking to several bartenders who looked at me with several varieties of compassion.
"Have another on me," said the bartender.
I had another, and went out into the street.