Very round of eye, the landlord took up the bottle and wandered off with it like one in a dream. Anthony gulped his coffee, but, though the fare was excellent, ate little, fidgeted with his stock, shuffled in his chair, glanced frequently and stealthily at his watch and, in fine, discovered all those symptoms that indicated an extreme perturbation of mind. "Devil take it, Perry--how you eat!" he exclaimed at last. "The ham is delicious, Anthony--". "Dooced stuff would choke me! Oh, by heaven, I'd give anything--everything, to take your place for the next hour!" "But then, Anthony, it would probably be I who could not eat!" "Tush, man, I'll hit you the ace of spades six times out of seven at twelve paces! Four o'clock, by heaven! I wonder if that confounded chaise will be ready yet!" And up he sprang and hasted away into the yard and almost immediately came hurrying back to tell me the vehicle was at the door. Outside the mist seemed thick as ever, though the east was brightening to day; so I entered the chaise, followed by Anthony growling disgust, the door slammed, and through the open window came the round head of Tom the landlord to bob at us in turn. "'T will grow finer mayhap by an' by, sirs," quoth he, "hows'ever, good luck an' good fortun' to ye, gentlemen--all right, Peter!" he called to the postillion. Whereupon a whip cracked, the chaise lurched forward and landlord and inn vanished in the swirling mist. For a while we rode without talking, Anthony scowling out of his window, I staring out of mine at an eddying haze which, thinning out ever and anon, showed vague shapes that peeped forth only to be lost again, spectral trees, barns and ricks, looming unearthly in the half-light. "Perry, you--you are confoundedly silent!" "You are not particularly loquacious either," I retorted, slipping my hand within his arm. "Why, no--no, b'gad--I'm not, Perry. But then, it's such a peculiarly damnable morning, d'ye see." "Well, it will mayhap grow finer later on, remember." "Hope to heaven it does!" "It would make things--a little pleasanter, Anthony." "Peregrine, if--should anything--anything--er--dooced happen to you, I'll--aye, by God, I'll fight the fellow myself." "I beg you will do no such thing--I implore you Anthony." "Oh? Damme and why not?" "For the sake of Barbara--your Loveliness--your future happiness--" "Tush, man!" he exclaimed bitterly. "That dream is over!" "And I tell you Happiness is awaiting you--will come seeking you very soon, I feel sure." "How should you know this?" "You may have heard, Anthony, that people in such a position as mine--people who are facing the possibility of speedy dissolution, are sometimes gifted with a clearer vision--an intuition--call it what you will. However, I repeat my assurance that Happiness is awaiting you, coming to you with arms outstretched, if you will but have faith and patience--a happiness greater, fuller, richer than you have ever known."