"So, so, old boy," answered the Captain, who presided at the head of a finely polished oak table, at the same time filling a bumper, and placing a black, little pipe, silver-mounted, on the board—"so, so; the Towers were not as full as usual, but we had some devilish good days. Arranmore was there, and by G—, he drinks like a fish—how did you get on?"
"Famously! the Regent supped with us that night; a rare old buck is he."
"Zounds, and that's true; but what the deuce has become of L'Estrange? I miss his face, by Jove!"
"A ticklish question that, and hard to answer—Lord knows what has come over him; he is quite changed of late—no more the jolly fellow he was—he sits moping and silent in his rooms—I fancy Dame Venus is at the bottom of it."
"Right, Major, and well guessed too," said young Pringle, a lieutenant, "some girl he was soft on has given him the slip, and the poor devil has taken it sadly to heart."
"Egad, and I know who she is," replied the Captain, "and a devilish fine girl she is too—but I wouldn't give a snap for his chances."
"Who? who?" broke in several at once.
"Ask the foul fiend; you don't catch me blabbing," was the laconic reply.
Knowing the Captain's moods, the conversation was immediately altered, and Major Forster proposed a song. "Come, Pringle, let us have the song you sung us last night again. De Vere has never heard it;—first your health, De Vere."
"With pleasure," said the Captain, emptying his glass.