Tony's cheeks grew purple.
“There's no shame in that, my boy. Women do that with better men than either of us; ay, and will continue to do it centuries after you and I shall be canonized as saints. It's that same contempt of us that makes them worth the winning; but, I say, why is the fellow drawing up here?—Is he going to bait his beast?”
“No,” muttered Tony, with a certain confusion; “but we must get down and walk here. Our road lies by that path yonder: there 's no carriage-way up to our 'chateau;'” and he gave a peculiar accent to the last word.
“All right,” said Skeffy, gayly. “I 'm good for ten miles of a walk.”
“I 'll not test your powers so far; less than a quarter of an hour will bring us home. Take down the luggage, and I 'll send up for it,” said he to the driver.
“What honest poor devils you must be down here!” said Skeffy, as he saw the carman deposit the trunks on the road and drive off. “I 'd not like to try this experiment in Charing Cross.”
“You see there is some good in poverty, after all,” said Tony, laughing.
“Egad, I've tried it for some years without discovering it,” said Skeffy, gravely. “That,” continued he, after a brief pause, “it should make men careless, thoughtless, reckless if you like, I can conceive; but why it should make them honest, is clean beyond me. What an appetite this sharp air is giving me, Master Tony! I'll astonish that sirloin or that saddle of yours, whichever it be.”
“More likely neither, Skeffy. You 're lucky if it be a rasher and eggs.”
“Oh, that it may be,” cried the other, “and draught beer! Have you got draught beer?”