I regret to say that, as a pathetic
story, it for a moment seemed to be a dead failure. At last a
prominent banker sitting next to me turned to me with the awful
question: "Why don't your friend try to realize on his life
insurance?" I begged his pardon, I didn't quite understand. "Oh,
discount, sell out. Look here--(after a pause). Let him assign
his policy to me, it's not much of a risk, on your statement.
Well--I'll give him his five thousand dollars, clear."
And he did. Under the advice of this cool-headed--I think I may
add warm-hearted--banker, "The Man with an Aneurism" invested his
money in the name of and for the benefit of his wife in certain
securities that paid him a small but regular stipend. But he still
continued upon the boards of the theatre.
By reason of some business engagements that called me away from the
city, I did not see my friend the physician for three months
afterward. When I did I asked tidings of The Man with the
Aneurism. The Doctor's kind face grew sad. "I'm afraid--that is,
I don't exactly know whether I've good news or bad.
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