Which Describes Something of the Misfortunes of Ronald Barrymaine

"Is he given to--that sort of thing?"

"Sir," said Mr. Smivvle, "can you blame one who seeks forgetfulness
in the flowing bowl--and my friend Barry has very much to
forget--can you blame him?"

"No, poor fellow!"

"Sir, allow me to tell you my friend Barry needs no man's pity,
though I confess I could wish Chichester was not quite so
generous--in one respect."

"How?"

"In--ah--in keeping the flowing bowl continually brimming, my dear
fellow."

"Is Mr. Chichester a friend of his?"

"The only one, with the exception of yours obediently, who has not
deserted him in his adversity."

"Why?"

"Because, well,--between you and me, my dear fellow, I believe his
regard for Barry's half-sister, the Lady Cleone, is largely
accountable in Chichester's case; as for myself, because, as I think
I mentioned, the hand of a Smivvle once given, sir, is never
withdrawn, either on account of plague, poverty, pestilence, or Jews,
--dammem! This way, my dear fellow!" and turning into Cross Street,
up towards Leather Lane, Mr. Smivvle halted at a certain dingy door,
opened it, and showed Barnabas into a dingier hall, and so, leading
the way up the dingiest stairs in the world, eventually ushered him
into a fair-sized, though dingy, room; and being entered,
immediately stood upon tip-toe and laid a finger on his lips.

"Hush! the poor fellow's asleep, but you'll excuse him, I know."

Barnabas nodded, and, softly approaching the couch, looked down upon
the sleeper, and, with the look, felt his heart leap.