but hinted to Pen that he had
better have him for a partner at whist than play against him, and better
back him at ecarte than bet on the other side. "You see, he plays better
than you do, Pen," was the astute young gentleman's remark: "he plays
uncommon well, the Captain does;--and Pen, I wouldn't take the odds too
freely from him, if I was you. I don't think he's too flush of money,
the Captain ain't." But beyond these dark suggestions and generalities,
the cautious Foker could not be got to speak.

Not that his advice would have had more weight with a headstrong young
man, than advice commonly has with a lad who is determined on pursuing
his own way. Pen's appetite for pleasure was insatiable, and he rushed
at it wherever it presented itself, with an eagerness which bespoke
his fiery constitution and youthful health. He called taking pleasure
"Seeing life," and quoted well-known maxims from Terence, from Horace,
from Shakspeare, to show that one should do all that might become a man.
He bade fair to be utterly used up and a roue, in a few years, if he
were to continue at the pace at which he was going.

One night after a supper-party in college, at which Pen and Macheath had
been present, and at which a little quiet vingt-et-un had been played
(an amusement much pleasanter to men in their second and third year than
the boisterous custom of singing songs, which bring the proctors about
the rooms, and which have grown quite stale by this time, every man
having expended his budget)--as the men had taken their caps and were
going away, after no great losses or winnings on any side, Mr. Bloundell
playfully took up a green wine-glass from the supper-table, which had
been destined to contain iced cup, but into which he inserted something
still more pernicious, namely a pair of dice, which the gentleman took
out of his waistcoat-pocket, and put into the glass. Then giving the
glass a graceful wave which showed that his hand was quite experienced
in the throwing of dice, he called sevens the main, and whisking the
ivory cubes gently on the table, swept them up lightly again from the
cloth, and repeated this process two or three times. The other men
looked on, Pen, of course, among the number, who had never used the dice
as yet, except to play a humdrum game of backgammon at home.

Mr. Bloundell, who had a good voice, began to troll out the chorus from
Robert the Devil, an Opera then in great vogue, in which chorus many of