Here the conversation was broken off by the exigencies of the game.
The two young men sat smoking late into the night. Haggard narrated his American experience, cursed the dilatoriness of lawyers and land agents; told of his feats by flood and field; praised the hospitality of the natives, the horses and the half-castes; but he didn't say much of Mademoiselle de Bondi, of the Mexico Opera House. And then they talked about the Pandemonium, and Haggard heard with pleasure that his numerous club acquaintances would be delighted to see him.
"Not quite so pleased, I fancy, when they know I have forsworn the pasteboards. That Lamb affair was a scorcher. Besides, Shirtings, you know—I may say it to you without swagger—I find now I've made my pile that it's too big to risk, so I mean to set up as a fogey, and to confine myself to whist at pound points."
"Poor old paterfamilias," exclaimed the sympathizing friend with genuine feeling. "I know, port wine, a J.P.-ship, with a lord-lieutenancy and the gout looming in the distant future."
Haggard gave a groan. "I suppose it'll come to that," said he.
"How are the old man and the pigs? Jolly as usual, eh?"
"Well, the pigs are flourishing, but the governor's out of sorts; he speaks thick, and his handwriting's getting rather groggy; the poor old chap may go off at any moment."
There was a short silence.
"Are you going to speculate yourself, Shirtings? If you were one of the impecunious, there'd be a chance for you to-morrow. Two queens of the snobocracy will entertain us at romping in the hay, with Sir Roger de Coverley to follow. From all I hear it is a land flowing with milk and honey. The people themselves are rather dreadful, but for my own part, after three weeks of enforced tranquility, seeing no one but the old boy, my wife and her cousin, I am in a state of mind that is prepared to be grateful for the smallest mercies. My dear fellow, I positively look forward to it. Another week of the existence I have been leading here, and I verily believe that I shall yearn to dance with my own wife."
"Or even her pretty cousin," chimed in Lord Spunyarn.