In past days I had often followed a ring over the table, across chairs, and nearly out at the window, but that was when I blew one by accident and was loath to let it go.

Now I distributed them among my friends, who let them slip away into the looking-glass.

I think I had almost forgotten what I was doing and where I was when an awful thing happened.

My pipe went out! [Illustration] "There are remnants in it yet," Jimmy cried, with forced cheerfulness, while Gilray blew the ashes off my sleeve, Marriot slipped a cushion behind my back, and Scrymgeour made another spill.

Again I smoked, but no longer recklessly.
It is revealing no secret to say that a drowning man sees his whole past unfurl before him like a panorama.