FitzGerald, on the contrary, was eloquent in favour of “the best that was going, and hang the expense!”
“You’ll want two horses, my boy,” he announced, “if you’re going in for paper-chasing and the gymkhana; you might chance on a bargain, too. I heard of a fellow who got a wonder for three hundred rupees, an ugly ewe-necked brute, but he carried off the Gold Cup and every blessed thing he was entered for. On the other hand, such a windfall is a very outside chance; then you must have a small car for the rains—I believe you would get a nice little Ford for six hundred rupees.”
Shafto received this advice with a shout of laughter.
“A racer and a car on four hundred rupees a month! FitzGerald, you are raving mad. If I followed your advice——” he paused.
“You would soon be shunted out of Gregory’s,” supplemented MacNab, who, with impassive face, was lolling in a long chair, a silent but attentive listener.
“Ah, don’t be minding that fellow!” protested FitzGerald. “Shure, he’d sell his father’s gravestone, if he ever had the heart to put it up.”
“Well, I pay my way, Fitz, and can walk down Phayre Street at my case, whilst you——” he paused significantly.
“Oh, well, I own a few bills, I know—six hundred rupees a month goes no way here, but it’ll be all right when my ship comes in; anyhow, I’ll have had a good time—I’ll have that to look back upon when I’m an old fellow upon the shelf. Now you,” suddenly turning to stare at MacNab, “never spend a rupee; you wouldn’t take a taxi to save your life, never go to a cinema or a concert, nothing that costs money; you just bicycle and drink lemon squashes and write home.”
“Oh, if you want to ride in taxis and go to cinemas, you might as well be in London,” put in Roscoe, who had joined them.
“I wish to the Lord I was!” declared FitzGerald; “standing at the corner of Piccadilly Circus this blessed minute, and making up my mind whether to go to the Criterion grill or to Prince’s?”