“Oh, don’t worry yourself,” he assured him. “As long as you behave yourself decently, you’re quite safe.”
“I doubt it,” the other muttered, despondently.
“I heard the other day,” said Daniel, “from one of your brother officers that you’d sworn off cards too.”
Charles Barthampton puffed viciously at his cigar. “I suppose you’ll rob me of all my fun before I’m through with you. Hadn’t you better ask me whether I’ve joined the Y.M.C.A., and regularly say my prayers?”
“No, I’ll leave that to you,” Daniel answered with a smile. “But there’s one thing I should like to ask you: have you taken any steps yet to give anything to the poor?”
His cousin shook his head.
“Well, hurry up and do so,” said Daniel.
Once more Lord Barthampton rose from his chair, and this time to his relief, he was not pushed back again. “I’m late for the show,” he grumbled, “and anyway it’s no fun staying here, being put through my paces. You’ve got all the cards, and the game’s in your hands. It makes me sick.”
“Yes, I’m sorry,” Daniel replied, and he spoke with sincerity. “But don’t worry yourself. You’re going on fine.”
With that he let him go.