Ramage, that iron-gray man of the world, appeared dressed in a bowler hat and a suit of hard gray, astride of a black horse. He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy. Jonathan nodded assent. “Our business here is the right way. I'm a stickler about clothes and clean chins. "In this pit," he added, pointing to the chasm below, "your brother is buried. Why am I here—thirty years of loneliness? Because I know women, the good and the bad; and because I could not have the good, I would not take the bad. ‘Whereas my need was very great indeed. "The doctor and I agreed to give you a chance—for her sake. ’ ‘Why must you?’ asked Gerald calmly.
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