The Way We Live Now Anthony Trollope (classic books for 11 year olds .txt) đ
- Author: Anthony Trollope
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âYou and Grasslough were never pals.â
âI donât like him a bit. He gives himself airs because he is a lord, and is devilish ill-natured. I donât know why he should want to ride my horses.â
âTo save his own.â
âHe isnât hard up. Why doesnât he have his own horses? Iâll tell you what, Carbury, Iâve made up my mind to one thing, and, by Jove, Iâll stick to it. I never will lend a horse again to anybody. If fellows want horses let them buy them.â
âBut some fellows havenât got any money, Dolly.â
âThen they ought to go tick. I donât think Iâve paid for any of mine Iâve bought this season. There was somebody here yesterdayâ ââ
âWhat! here at the club?â
âYes; followed me here to say he wanted to be paid for something! It was horses, I think, because of the fellowâs trousers.â
âWhat did you say?â
âMe! Oh, I didnât say anything.â
âAnd how did it end?â
âWhen heâd done talking I offered him a cigar, and while he was biting off the end I went upstairs. I suppose he went away when he was tired of waiting.â
âIâll tell you what, Dolly; I wish youâd let me ride two of yours for a couple of daysâ âthat is, of course, if you donât want them yourself. You ainât tight now, at any rate.â
âNo; I ainât tight,â said Dolly, with melancholy acquiescence.
âI mean that I wouldnât like to borrow your horses without your remembering all about it. Nobody knows as well as you do how awfully done up I am. I shall pull through at last, but itâs an awful squeeze in the meantime. Thereâs nobody Iâd ask such a favour of except you.â
âWell, you may have them;â âthat is, for two days. I donât know whether that fellow of mine will believe you. He wouldnât believe Grasslough, and told him so. But Grasslough took them out of the stables. Thatâs what somebody told me.â
âYou could write a line to your groom.â
âOh, my dear fellow, that is such a bore; I donât think I could do that. My fellow will believe you, because you and I have been pals. I think Iâll have a little drop of curaçao before dinner. Come along and try it. Itâll give us an appetite.â
It was then nearly seven oâclock. Nine hours afterwards the same two men, with two othersâ âof whom young Lord Grasslough, Dolly Longestaffeâs peculiar aversion, was oneâ âwere just rising from a card-table in one of the upstairs rooms of the club. For it was understood that, though the Beargarden was not to be open before three oâclock in the afternoon, the accommodation denied during the day was to be given freely during the night. No man could get a breakfast at the Beargarden, but suppers at three oâclock in the morning were quite within the rule. Such a supper, or rather succession of suppering, there had been tonight, various devils and broils and hot toasts having been brought up from time to time first for one and then for another. But there had been no cessation of gambling since the cards had first been opened about ten oâclock. At four in the morning Dolly Longestaffe was certainly in a condition to lend his horses and to remember nothing about it. He was quite affectionate with Lord Grasslough, as he was also with his other companionsâ âaffection being the normal state of his mind when in that condition. He was by no means helplessly drunk, and was, perhaps, hardly more silly than when he was sober; but he was 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 Dollyâs sitting down was not sufficient. âIâm going to hunt tomorrow,â said Sir Felixâ âmeaning that dayâ ââand I shall play no more. A man must go to bed at some time.â
âI donât see it at all,â said Lord Grasslough. âItâs an understood thing that when a man has won as much as you have he should stay.â
âStay how long?â said Sir Felix, with an angry look. âThatâs nonsense; there must be an end of everything, and thereâs an end of this for me tonight.â
âOh, if you choose,â said his lordship.
âI do choose. Good night, Dolly; weâll settle this next time we meet. Iâve got it all entered.â
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 motherâs cheque, a poor ÂŁ20, and now he hadâ âhe didnât 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 ÂŁ800, and he knew also that he had received more than that in ready money and cheques from Lord Grasslough and the other player. Dolly Longestaffeâs money, too, would certainly be paid, though Dolly did complain of the importunity of his tradesmen. As he walked up St. Jamesâs Street, looking for a cab, he presumed himself to be worth over ÂŁ700. 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 wealthâ âof 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
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