I've put the life of my heart and the light of my eyes into her, and I don't care what comes....

I'm tired,--awfully tired.

I think I'll get to sleep.

Take away the whiskey, it has served its turn, and give Bessie thirty-six quid, and three over for luck.

Cover the picture.' He dropped asleep in the long chair, hid face white and haggard, almost before he had finished the sentence.