The Ebb-Tide by Robert Louis Stevenson Fiction Historical Literary

<p><strong>Oh what does it matter? cried Herrick. </strong>Here I am. I am broken crockery; I am a burst drum; the whole of my life is gone to water; I have nothing left that I believe in except my living horror of myself. Why do I come to you? I don't know; you are cold cruel hateful; and I hate you or I think I hate you. But you are an honest man an honest gentleman. I put myself helpless in your hands. What must I do? If I can't do anything be merciful and put a bullet through me; it's only a puppy with a broken leg! -- If I were you I would pick up that pistol come up to the house and put on some dry clothes said Attwater.</p>