"Yes, I suppose I shall," was the quiet response, "if down it must go."
Leycester walked on in silence for a minute.
"What a mockery it all is!" he said, with a half smile.
"Yes," assented Lord Charles, slowly; "some people would call it by a stronger name, I suppose. I don't see the use of it. The use—why it's the very ruination. Ley, you are killing yourself."
"And you."
"No," said Lord Charles, coolly, "I'm all right—I've got nothing on my mind. I'm bored and used-up while it lasts, but when it's over I can turn in and get to sleep. You can't—or you don't."
Leycester thrust his hands in his pockets in silence, he could not deny it.
"I don't believe you sleep one night out of three," said Lord Charles. "You've got the mad fever, Ley. I wish it could be altered."
Leycester walked on still more quickly.
"You shall go down to-morrow, Charles," he said. "I don't think I'll come."