“I seldom speculate,” was the dry rejoinder.
“You are right; nor is this the case to tempt you.”
“They 'll be paid, I take it?”
“Paid! I'll swear they shall!” said Sewell, fiercely. “I'll stand a deal of humbug about dinner invitations, and cold salutations, and such-like; but none, sir, not one, about what touches a material interest.”
“It's not worth being angry about,” said Balfour, who was really glad to see the other's imperturbability give way.
“I'm not angry. I was only a little impatient, as a man may be when he hears a fellow utter a truism as a measure of encouragement. Tell your friends—I suppose I must call them your friends—that they make an egregious mistake when they push a man like me to the wall. It is intelligible enough in a woman to do it; women don't measure their malignity, nor their means of gratifying it; but men ought to know better.”
“I incline to think I'll tell my 'friends' nothing whatever on the subject.”
“That's as you please; but remember this,—if the day should come that I need any of these, details you have given me this morning, I'll quote them, and you too, as their author; and if I bring an old house about your ears, look out sharp for a falling chimney-pot! You gave me a piece of advice awhile ago,” continued he, as he put on his hat before the glass, and arranged his necktie. “Let me repay you with two, which you will find useful in their several ways: Don't show your hand when you play with as shrewd men as myself; and, Don't offer a friend such execrable tobacco as that on the chimney;” and with this he nodded and strolled out, humming an air as he crossed the Castle yard and entered the city.