“By, by,” said I; “see you later.”
“Look here,” said Miss Grace’s military brother, “no dam foolery, Dimsdale. Sit down and finish your cigar. Toddles, if you don’t hold your tongue I’ll choke you. This has gone too far.”
“I’ll lay a ‘pony’ that Dimsdale don’t do it,” said Carteret.
“Done,” said I.
“You can call that ‘pony’ squandered, Jimmy,” said the Optimist, with tears of gladness in his eyes.
“Isn’t it gaudy?” said the little parson rapturously. “Isn’t it ger-lor-i-ous?”
But even at this late hour I don’t think any of them quite realized the finality of my resolve. For when I got so far as to open the door, they were one and all so thunderstruck that they could not say a word. It was only when with an assumption of bravado that I flippantly commended myself to their prayers, and walked out of the room, that they set up a positive howl of laughter. I am not sure, though, whether it was not rather hollow.
As for myself, I might have a dim consciousness that my folly was colossal, yet this in no wise deterred me. If I am at any time goaded into action, no matter how indefinite its nature, it is no part of my character to stop halfway; therefore it was in a devil-may-care, hands-in-the-pockets, two-o’clock-in-the-morning fashion that I sauntered into the library, incredibly impudent of mien.
CHAPTER XV
Facing the Music
MISS GRACE was seated at the table under the lamp, and I was a trifle discomfited to find that a very palpable frown was disfiguring her mobile brow.