The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet. The person caught hold of his arm, and, in spite of his efforts to disengage himself, detained him. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing.
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