He reads on. Another drink, just to rivet my attention. Will he take
something? No? Then _I_ will. His health, and song--I mean 'treatise,'
or whatever he calls it--say 'lecture.' Wish we'd had a piano. Never
will travel without one again. _Mem._--Gong and piano. I don't pretend
to be a thorough musician, but as a one-fingered player I'd give Sir
CHARLES HALLÉ odds and beat him. Now then--let's see where were we.
Another tumbler iced. Good. _Allez!_ Captain, go ahead!
[Illustration]
Somehow or another, after this--that is, I can only time it by the
fact of my having called for a fourth or fifth glass of iced drink, or
it may have been my half-dozenth, for time does fly so,--the Captain
having, I suspect, drank the greater part of the previous one whenever
I didn't happen to be looking that way--I begin to think I must have
once more given my assent by nodding to a lot of stuff of which I
could not nave heard more than three pages, as, when I arouse myself
from my reverie, the tumbler is empty, the Captain has gone out, and
so has my cigar.