“What? Does Bridg drink?”
“Rather.” Ordham had selected the most comfortable chair in the room and pushed it to the table. He received his cup of tea and disposed himself in the depths.
“Don’t be tiresome. Has he taken to drink as a habit?”
“He can barely handle a gun, eats next to nothing, and is now quite, instead of half, a boor. His face is twice its former size. There is no doubt that he is going the pace in his own quiet way.”
“And his health?”
“Good enough.”
“That accounts for several things I noticed when I was there last, but never thought of attributing to drink. Of course you did not get the money?”
“I got it.”
Lady Bridgminster drew a deep sigh of relief. “Then those wretched creditors of yours can be disposed of. The interviews I have had with them! What is the world coming to? My own are not more vulgar and impertinent. But this is only a respite, Johnny. Two years hence you will be in the same predicament; worse, no doubt. Bridg is good for twenty years yet. Did you persuade him to increase your income?”
“No, and he never will.”