s willing to play at any game whether he
understood it or not, and for any stakes. When Sir Felix got up and
said he would play no more, Dolly also got up, apparently quite
contented. When Lord Grasslough, with a dark scowl on his face,
expressed his opinion that it was not just the thing for men to break
up like that when so much money had been lost, Dolly as willingly sat
down again. But Dolly's sitting down was not sufficient. 'I'm going to
hunt to-morrow,' said Sir Felix--meaning that day,--'and I shall play no
more. A man must go to bed at some time.'

'I don't see it at all,' said Lord Grasslough. 'It's an understood
thing that when a man has won as much as you have he should stay.'

'Stay how long?' said Sir Felix, with an angry look. 'That's nonsense;
there must be an end of everything, and there's an end of this for me
to-night.'

'Oh, if you choose,' said his lordship.

'I do choose. Good night, Dolly; we'll settle this next time we meet.
I've got it all entered.'

The night had been one very serious in its results to Sir Felix. He
had sat down to the card-table with the proceeds of his mother's
cheque, a poor L20, and now he had,--he didn't at all know how much in
his pockets. He also had drunk, but not so as to obscure his mind. He
knew that Longestaffe owed him over L300, and he knew also that he had
received more than that in ready money and cheques from Lord
Grasslough and the other player. Dolly Longestaffe's money, too, would
certainly be paid, though Dolly did complain of the importunity of his
tradesmen. As he walked up St. James's Street, looking for a cab, he
presumed himself to be worth over L700. When begging for a small sum
from Lady Carbury, he had said that he could not carry on the game
without some ready money, and had considered himself fortunate in
fleecing his mother as he had done. Now he was in the possession of
wealth,--of wealth that might, at any rate, be sufficient to aid him
materially in the object he had in hand. He never for a moment thought
of paying his bills. Even the large sum of which he had become so
unexpectedly possessed would not have gone far with him in such a
quixotic object as that; but he could now look bright, and buy
presents, and be seen with money in his hands. It is hard even to make
love in these days without something in your purse.

He found no cab, but in his present frame of mind was indifferent to
the trouble of walking home. There was something so