Love is, indeed, a madness in the brain.

Good-night." [Illustration] When he finished I would wake up, open the door for Marriot, and light him to his sleeping-chamber with a spill.
[Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER IX.
JIMMY.
With the exception of myself, Jimmy Moggridge was no doubt the most silent of the company that met so frequently in my rooms.

Just as Marriot's eyebrows rose if the cane chair was not empty when he strode in, Jimmy held that he had a right to the hearth-rug, on which he loved to lie prone, his back turned to the company and his eyes on his pipe.
The stem was a long cherry-wood, but the bowl was meerschaum, and Jimmy, as he smoked, lay on the alert, as it were, to see the meerschaum coloring.

So one may strain his eyes with intent eagerness until he can catch the hour-hand of a watch in action.

With tobacco in his pocket Jimmy could refill his pipe without moving, but sometimes he crawled along the hearth-rug to let the fire-light play more exquisitely on his meerschaum bowl.