"Lord, but I'm tired," he said, sinking back into a big arm-chair; "I
was up till daylight, and then I had to be in the office by nine, and
to-night Billy Fleetwood is giving--oh, something or other. By the way,
the market isn't doing a thing to the shorts! You're not in, are you,
Selwyn?"
"No, not that way. I hope you are not, either; are you, Gerald?"
"Oh, it's all right," replied the young fellow confidently; and raising
his glass, he nodded at Selwyn with a smile.
"You were mighty nice to me, anyhow," he said, setting his glass aside
and lighting a cigar. "You see, I went to a dance, and after a while
some of us cleared out, and Jack Ruthven offered us trouble; so half a
dozen of us went there. I had the worst cards a man ever drew to a
kicker. That was all about it."
The boy was utterly unconscious that he was treading on delicate ground
as he rattled on in his warmhearted, frank, and generous way. Totally
oblivious that the very name of Ruthven must be unwelcome if not
offensive to his listener, he laughed through a description of the
affair, its thrilling episodes, and Mrs.
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