Why, you couldn't give your word and keep it for two years.' Through this extraordinary scene Dagworthy was utterly unlike himself.
It was as if a man suffering physical agony should suddenly begin to jest and utter wild mirth; there was the same unreality in his behaviour.

Throughout it all the lines of his face never lost their impress of gloom.

Misery had its clutch upon him, and he was driven by an inexplicable spirit of self-mockery to burlesque the subject of his unhappiness.

He had no sense of responsibility, and certain instincts were strongly excited, making a kind of moral intoxication.
Jessie answered his question with wide eyes.
'I couldn't ?--Ah!' She spoke under her breath, and with sincerity which was not a little amusing.
'It's New Year's Eve, isn't it ?' Dagworthy pursued, throwing out his words at random.

'Be here this day two years--or not, as you like.