"Think over that serious interest in life.
You never know your luck."
George moved to the door. "I know my luck all right," he laughed.
"Never mind, I'm not grumbling with it."
CHAPTER V.
Upon Life: And May Be Missed.
In the ante-room, as it were, of a very short chapter, we must make
ready to receive our heroine. She is about to spring dazzling upon our
pages; will be our close companion through some moving scenes. We must
collect ourselves, brush our hair, arrange our dress, prepare our
nicest manner.
And as in ante-rooms there are commonly papers laid about to beguile
the tedium, and as the faint rustle of our heroine's petticoats is
warning that George's assertion that he knew his luck is immediately
to be disproved, let us make a tiny little paper on the folly of such
a statement.
For of his luck man has no glimmer of prescience. Day by day we rattle
the box, throw the dice; but of how these will fall we have no
knowledge. We only hope with the gambler's feverishness; and it is
this very hazard that keeps us crowding and pushing to hold our place
at the tables where fortune spins. Grow we sick of the game, sour with
our luck, weary of the hazard, and relinquish we our place at the
table, we are pushed back and out--elbowed, thrown, trampled.
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