And,
properly speaking, you ought never to have been allowed to draw at
all, being so young."
Albert groaned hollowly. "When you've finished torkin', I wish
you'd kindly have the goodness to leave me alone. I'm not meself."
"That," said Keggs cordially, "is a bit of luck for you, my boy.
Accept my 'eartiest felicitations!"
Defeat is the test of the great man. Your true general is not he
who rides to triumph on the tide of an easy victory, but the one
who, when crushed to earth, can bend himself to the task of
planning methods of rising again. Such a one was Albert, the
page-boy. Observe Albert in his attic bedroom scarcely more than an
hour later. His body has practically ceased to trouble him, and his
soaring spirit has come into its own again. With the exception of
a now very occasional spasm, his physical anguish has passed, and
he is thinking, thinking hard. On the chest of drawers is a grubby
envelope, addressed in an ill-formed hand to:
R. Byng, Esq.
On a sheet of paper, soon to be placed in the envelope, are written
in the same hand these words:
"Do not dispare! Remember! Fante hart never won
fair lady.
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