He waved his hand, and the ladies waved theirs, and then the three drove away. Lord George lighted a cigar, and putting his arm within that of Beecot, strolled down the road. "Come to my club," he said.
"No, thank you," answered Paul, politely, "I must get home."
"But I wish you'd come. I hate being by myself and you seem such a good sort of chap."
"Well," said Beecot, thinking he might say a word in season to this young fool, "I don't gamble."
"Oh, you cry down that, do you?"
"Well, I think it's foolish."
"It is," assented Lord George, frankly, "infernally foolish. And Hay has all the luck. I wonder if he plays square."
This was dangerous ground, and Paul shied. "I really can't say," he said coldly, "I don't play cards."
"But what do you know of Hay?" asked Sandal.