His brain was in a whirl, and the chink of money, the rattle of the dice, the unvarying phrases of the dealer, the brief remarks of the players, all sounded like fairy music in his ears. He was impatient to begone, for he felt that he was succumbing to the fascinations of the place, rightly named a 'Hell.'
As he went to the side table for his hat, he espied his smiling neighbour standing looking into the glass, with one hand under his chin, fiercely pushing his whiskers forward so as almost to cover his face, while with the other hand he made terrific menaces at the reflection of that face in the glass.
"Ugh! you old fool!" he vituperated his own image, at the same time shaking his fist at it. "Did I not tell you so? Did I not say you would lose? You ass! you ass! Five and forty shillings have you thrown away this blessed night! Five and forty shillings? Will you never learn wisdom—will you never leave off play? Ass! fool! Ass!"
Cecil with difficulty restrained his laughter, and advanced saying:—
"I'm sorry you have not been fortunate, sir."
"You are sorry, are you," fiercely replied the little man, sharply turning round upon him, delighted at having some one else on whom to vent his wrath. "And pray sir, who are you? Who are you, sir, that presumes to be sorry for me! Am I an ass, sir? am I a boy? am I a noodle? to be pestered by the pity of a puppy like you. Do you wish to quarrel with me, sir? do you wish to quarrel? If so, say the word. I am not quarrelsome, myself; not I; but I am not to be bullied, sir; you shall find that I am not to be bullied. You may try it on, sir—you will find it no go! And since you are determined to fight me, sir, fight you shall. You force me to it, but I am not one to back out of it."
Cecil looked at him for a moment in surprise, and then quietly turning on his heel, put an arm within Frank's, and went down stairs.
The little fiery gentleman ran his fingers several times through his whiskers, and then turned again to vituperate his own repentant face in the glass. Having relieved his choler thus, he called for some wine, and went home to bed, pathetic and moralizing.
Cecil and Frank supped joyously that night, and threw about their money with the lavish recklessness of those to whom money so gained loses its proper value.
Cecil came home exhausted with excitement, and on his way ruminated how he should deceive Blanche as to the source of his new gains:—