'
Misery had made me a maniac at last; my brain swam, and the head of
the woman seemed to be growing before me--seemed once more to be
transfigured before me into a monstrous mountainous representation of
an awful mockery-goddess and columbine-queen, down whose merry
wrinkles were flowing tears that were at once tears of Olympian
laughter and tears of the oceanic misery of Man.
'Well, you _are_ a rum un, and no mistake,' said the woman. 'But who
the dickens _are_ you? _That's_ what licks me. Who the dickens _are_
you? Howsomever, if you'll fork out another quid, the Queen of the
Jokes'll tell you some'ink to your awantage, an' if you won't fork
out the Queen o' the Jokes is mum.'
I stood and looked at her--looked till the street seemed to heave
under my feet and the houses to rock. After this I seem to have
wandered back to Wilderspin's studio, and there to have sunk down
unconscious.
XII
THE REVOLVING CAGE OF CIRCUMSTANCE
I
I will not trouble the reader with details of the illness that came
upon me as the result of my mental agony and physical exhaustion.
Pages:
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563