"Just one word—one second, Dicky!" he yelled. "Let me off with one, then. Dicky! Dicky, old chap! Be a good sportsman!"
I hesitated. Dash it, one hates to take an advantage.
Billings stretched out his arm appealingly. "Do, old chap!" he pleaded. "Give me just one—one only!"
His hand shook like a quivering what's-its-name leaf.
I yielded reluctantly: "Oh, well then, call it off with one," I said. And with a sigh I tossed him one of the rubies and dropped the other in the pocket of my smoking-jacket. Billings wiped his forehead, and then he thanked me and wiped his eyes.
"So good of you to give in, old chap," he snuffled. "Never will forget you for it!"
"Oh, I say, chuck it, you know!" I protested.
"Whole family will thank you," he went on in his handkerchief. "Princely magnanimity and all that sort of thing—you'll just have to come up for the week end with me this—"
"I will!" I reached forward eagerly and insisted on shaking hands. By Jove, what luck!
And Billings looked regularly overcome. All he could do was just shake his head and pump my arm. Why, dash it, this seemed to affect him more even than giving in about the ruby. It was the first time I had ever accepted his invitation, you know.