"Oh, I'm so glad it's you, Cousin Gerald; come on, we can play at horses now."
"No, no, Dicky, I can't. I'm not on for games this morning. You go on being Samson and find some more Philistines to slaughter. How are you, Miss Crane?"
"Oh, I'm very well, thank you. And you, Mr. Arkel, you're not looking quite yourself; are you ill?"
He flung himself on the grass beside her, and picked up a fir-cone which he began to pull to pieces.
"I feel nearly dead," he said irritably; "I suppose I must expect to. I was playing pretty well through the night, and worse luck, dropped a good deal too. I never can get on without my sleep, and lately my nerves have been playing Old Harry with me!"
"Then why in the name of goodness do you go on like this—you are ruining your health."
"Oh, a fellow must live, and enjoy himself somehow!"
"And do you call playing cards into the small hours and shattering your nerves—not to speak of losing your money—enjoyment? I really am surprised, Mr. Arkel, that a man like you, especially when you know your constitution won't stand much, should behave so foolishly. It isn't as if you hadn't sufficient means——"
Gerald shook his head.
"Sufficient means?—that's just it. I know nothing about my means. For the present, yes, my uncle allows me—well, I suppose really you would call it a sufficiency. But in the future? I am all in the dark. He may make me his heir—on the other hand he may not. You know how eccentric he is. He may leave me without a penny. He's quite capable of it. That's really why I gamble, so that I can put by something and be independent of his whims."