George stood like a statue; he knew not which course to
take,--whether to go up to his friend's room, or go down to the
street. He soon determined, and sent word that he wished to speak to
James. In a moment the latter was again to be heard declaiming
disconnected sentences on all manner of subjects, until, learning
the wish of George, he shouted,
"Yes, tell him to come up and revel in the groves of Madeira, or
dance with peasant-girls at the grape-gatherings in Sicily! Yes,
George, up here, and see how a man can live a temperance life
without signing the pledge, and be as independent as he pleases!"
As George entered, James grasped his hand,--swung him round rather
familiarly, and pushed him towards a chair.
The furniture and all that was in the room was in the greatest
confusion, not excepting James Clifton himself. There was a
boot-jack and a vase of flowers side by side on the mantel; a pair
of boots on the centre-table, with two or three annuals on them, as
though to keep them from being blown away; a nice hat stood on the
hearth filled with coal-ashes, while an inkstand upside down on a
pile of linen bosoms had left an impression not easily effaced; the
paintings that were in the room were turned face towards the
wall,--some freak of James', as though ashamed to have them see the
performances.
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