In Which Ronald Barrymaine Speaks His Mind

The whiskers of Mr. Digby Smivvle were in a chastened mood, indeed
their habitual ferocity was mitigated to such a degree that they
might almost be said to wilt, or droop. Mr. Digby Smivvle drooped
likewise; in a word, Mr. Smivvle was despondent.

He sat in one of the rickety chairs, his legs stretched out to the
cheerless hearth, and stared moodily at the ashes of a long dead fire.
At the opening of the door he started and half rose, but seeing
Barnabas, sank back again.

"Beverley," he cried, "thank heaven you're safe back again--that is
to say--" he went on, striving to speak in his ordinary manner,
"that is to say,--I mean--ah--in short, my dear Beverley, I'm
delighted to see you!"

"Pray what do you mean by safe?"

"What do I mean?" repeated Mr. Smivvle, beginning to fumble for his
whisker with strangely clumsy fingers, "why, I mean--safe, sir,--a
very natural wish, surely?"

"Yes," said Barnabas, "and you wished to see me, I think?"

"To see you?" echoed Mr. Smivvle, still feeling for his whisker,--"why,
yes, of course--"

"At least, the Viscount told me so."

"Ah? Deuced obliging of the Viscount,--very!"

"Are you alone?" Barnabas inquired, struck by Mr. Smivvle's
hesitating manner, and he glanced toward the door of what was
evidently a bedroom.

"Alone, sir," said Mr. Smivvle, "is the precise and only word for it.
You have hit the nail exactly--upon the nob, sir." Here, having
found his whisker, Mr. Smivvle gave it a fierce wrench, loosed it,
and clenching his fist, smote himself two blows in the region of the
heart. "Sir," said he, "you behold in me a deserted and therefore
doleful ruminant chewing reflection's solitary cud. And, sir,--it is
a bitter cud, cursedly so,--wherein the milk of human kindness is
curdled, sir, curdled most damnably, my dear Beverley! In a word, my
friend Barry--wholly forgetful of those sacred bonds which the
hammer of Adversity alone can weld,--scorning Friendship's holy
obligations, has turned his back upon Smivvle,--upon Digby,--upon
faithful Dig, and--in short has--ah--hopped the mutual perch, sir."