od we could not have received a more polite welcome.
There was an elegance, too, about the house, and a refinement which
coincided with the culture of the hosts and guests. Altogether it was
one of the most agreeable parties I had ever seen. There were several
gentlemen, all Prince Regents, and one sweet lady, charming in every
way, from the well-arranged blonde tresses to the neatest little shoe
that ever adorned a Cinderella foot. She was beautiful in person as
she was charming in manner. You saw at once that she moved in the best
Norwich society, and was the idol of it. Crook was perfectly amazed at
so much grace and splendour, but then he was much younger than any of
us.

I don't think any one was so much smitten as Crook. We had seen more
of the world than he had--that is to say, more of the witness-box--and
if you don't see the world there, on its oath, you can see it nowhere
in the same unveiled deformity.

We enjoyed ourselves very much. There was good music and a little
sweet singing, the lady being in that art, as in every other, well
trained and accomplished. If I was not altogether ravished with the
performance, Crook was. You could see that by the tender look of his
eyes.

After the music, cards were introduced, and they commenced playing
_vingt-et-un_, Crook being the special favourite with everybody,
especially with the ladies. I believe much was due to the expression
of his eyes.

As I had given up cards, I did not join in the game, but became more
and more interested in it as an onlooker. I was a little surprised,
however, to find that in a very short while, comparatively, our friend
Crook had lost L30 or L40; and as this was the greater part of his
allowance for travelling expenses, it placed him in a rather awkward
position.

Some men travel faster when they have no money; this was not the case
with poor Crook, who travelled only by means of it. Alas, I thought,
_twenty-one_ and _vingt-et-un_! It was a serious matter, and the worse
because Crook was not a good loser: he lost his head and his temper as
well as his money; and I have ever observed through life that the man
who loses his temper loses himself and his friends.

He was disgusted with his bad luck, but nurtured a desperate hope--the
forlorn hope that deceives all gamblers--that he should retrieve his
losses on some future occasion, which he eagerly looked for and, one
might say, demanded.

The occasion was not far off; it was, in fa