usier.
Captain Polkington, who had lived quietly so long, felt rather lost
and bewildered at first in the bustling intricate streets; there were
so many people, especially among the shops, they were always getting
in his way. He only made one purchase before lunch; he would have
plenty of time in the afternoon, he thought, and would be better able
to decide what to buy when he had seen things and had a meal. The
purchase made before lunch was at the wine merchants, it was whisky.

He lunched at the best hotel; that and the whisky made a rather bigger
hole in the five pound note than one would have expected. Still, as he
told himself the whisky really was a vital matter with winter coming
on, a necessity, not a luxury, for all of them--Johnny would be better
for a little--he used to like a glass in the old days; and Julia would
certainly be the better for it, working as she did in the cold. It was
a medicine for them all, not himself alone. The lunch was the only
personal extravagance and really, seeing what he was doing for the
others, there was no need for him to grudge that to himself.

So he lunched and then the trouble began. He was not clear quite how
it happened; at least, owing to the confusion there always was in his
mind between facts as they were, as he wished them to be, and as they
appeared in retrospect--he was never able to explain it thoroughly.
There were other men lunching at the same time; he still had the
Polkington faculty for making friends and acquaintances; he still,
too, had the appearance and manner of a gentleman, if of somewhat
reduced circumstances. He apparently made acquaintances; exactly how
many and what sort is not certain, the account was very confused here.
There was a whisky and soda in it, two whiskies and sodas, or even
three; a cigar, a game of billiards--perhaps there was more than one
game, or some other game besides billiards. At all events there must
have been something more, for the Captain afterwards declared he was
ruined in less than an hour, fleeced, cheated of his little all! It is
quite possible that he was nothing of the kind, and that the
acquaintances were perfectly honest and honourable men. They would not
know he could not afford to lose, a true Polkington always set out to
hide the reality of his poverty. And he was not likely to win, he
seldom did, no matter at what he played or with whom; he was
constitutionally unlucky--or incapable, which is a truer name for t