Stewart Routh had thrown off his low spirits, and had all but succeeded in rousing George Dallas from his. Kindly, convivial, only occasionally coarse, he was a dangerously pleasant man at all times, and especially so to George Dallas when Harriet was present; for then his coarseness was entirely laid aside, and her tact, humour, intelligence never failed to please, to animate, and to amuse him. The dinner was a very pleasant one, and, before it had come to a conclusion, George Dallas began to yield as completely as ever to the influence of the man whose enviable knowledge of "life" had been the first medium through which he had attained it. George had forgotten the renewed bill and his late failure for a while, when the mention of Deane's name recalled it to his memory.
"Has Deane been here, Harry?" asked Routh.
"No, Stewart, I have been at home all day, but he has not called."
"Ah--didn't happen to want me, no doubt."
"Have you seen much of him lately, Routh?" inquired George Dallas. "I mean, within the last week or two? While I--while I've been keeping out of the way?" he said, with a nervous laugh.
"Poor boy, you have been down on your luck," said Routh. "Seen much of Deane? Oh, yes; he's always about--he's here most days, some time in the forenoon."
"In the forenoon, is he? Considering the hours he keeps at night, that surprises me."
"It doesn't surprise me. He's very strong--has a splendid constitution, confound him, and has not given it a shake yet. Drink doesn't seem to 'trouble' him in the least."
"He's an odd fellow," said George, thoughtfully. "How coolly he won my money, and what a greenhorn I was, to be sure!! wonder if he would have lost his own so coolly."
"Not a doubt of it," said Routh; "he'd have been satisfied he would make it up out of something else. He is an odd fellow, and a deuced unpleasant fellow to my mind."