no harm," said he to himself; "it's not interfered
with my work, or made me feel worse than before. What harm in going
again to-night? When Charlie comes, and we get away from town, I shall
easily be able to break it off; and besides, Charlie's sure to help to
put me square; he always does. Yes; I think I'll just go and see what's
on there to-night; it can't be worse than it was. Besides," thought he,
glad to seize on any straw of excuse, "I'm bound in honour to play Gus a
return match; it would be ungentlemanly to back out of that."

But why sicken you, dear reader, and myself, with recapitulating the sad
workings of this poor fellow's mind? The more he tried to convince
himself he was doing only a slight wrong, the more his conscience cried
out he was running to his ruin. But he stopped his ears and shut his
eyes, and blindly dared his fate. He went that evening to the music-
hall. He met Gus and Mortimer, and two other friends. He had taken
care to get himself up in a nearer approach to his companions' style.
He bought some cigars of his own on the way, and offered them with a
less awkward swagger than he had been able to assume the night before.
He found himself able to nod familiarly to the barmaid, and fancied that
even Mortimer must have approved of the way in which he ordered about
the billiard-marker.

In the match with Gus for half-crowns he lost, though only narrowly--so
narrowly that he was not content, without a further trial of skill, to
own himself beaten, and therefore challenged his adversary to a second
meeting the next evening. Then he watched the others play, and betted
with Mortimer on the result--and alas! for him, he won.

It was Tom himself who said, at nine o'clock,--

"And now, suppose we see what's going on below."

It was the same stupid, disgusting spectacle, but to Tom it seemed less
repulsive than he had found it the night before. True, he at times felt
a return of the old feeling of shame; the blush would occasionally
suffuse his face; but such fits were rare, and he was able to carry them
off more easily with joke and laughter.

"Jack," said Gus in a whisper to Mortimer, as Tom, after accepting a
very broad hint to treat the party to spirits, was turning to go, "that
fellow will be a credit to you and me. Did you see how he smacked his
lips over the play, and yet all the while wanted to make us think he saw
that sort of thing every day of his life, eh? He's a promising