One o'clock was
striking as the game broke up, and there's Beverley yawning and
waiting for his hat, d' ye see, when in comes the Golden Ball. 'Ha,
Beverley!' says he, 'you gamble, they tell me?' 'Oh, now and then,'
says Beverley. 'Why then,' says Golden Ball, 'you may have heard that
I do a little that way, myself?' Now you mention it, I believe I
have,' says Beverley. 'Ha!' says Golden Ball, winking at the rest of
us, 'suppose we have a match, you and I--call your game.' 'Sir,'
says Beverley, yawning again, 'it is past one o'clock, and I make it
a rule never to play after one o'clock except for rather high stakes,'
(Rather high stakes says he! and to the Golden Ball,--oh curse me!)
'Do you, begad!' says Golden Ball, purple in the face--'ha!
you may have heard that I occasionally venture a hundred or so
myself--whatever the hour! Waiter--cards!' 'Sir,' says Beverley,
I've been playing ever since three o'clock this afternoon and I'm
weary of cards.' 'Oh, just as you wish,' says Golden Ball, 'at
battledore and shuttlecock I'm your man, or rolling the bones, or--'
'Dice, by all means!' says Beverley, yawning again.
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