Thomas taking up a bunch of keys from the table, unlocked a cupboard by the fireplace, and carefully uncorked a dusty, black looking bottle, and set it before Mr. Tallant’s only son, with a couple of richly cut glasses.
Mr. Shuffleton Gibbs took a seat by the window, commended the wine as he drank it, and criticised any woman who chanced to pass on the other side of the street. He was not a beauty himself that he should be so critical of the looks of others. He had weak eyes, and shaky legs, a short cough, and a narrow chest. His enemies said he wore stays, and slept in gloves, to improve his figure and whiten his hands, which were naturally red, like his face, that was powdered after the manner of women. He was a man of fashion nevertheless, and had sprung of a noble stock; but the race flickered its last in him, and the estates had been divided by Jews in his grandfather’s time.
It was considered a daring thing to be hand and glove with Gibbs at Oxford, a dangerous and a delightful thing; for he was known to be the fastest man of his college, and he had been the ring-leader in everything wicked for years. He made himself Mr. Tallant’s champion when that gentleman was epigrammatically assailed, and ever afterwards constituted himself boon companion to the iron prince.
There was a rumour that Mr. Shuffleton Gibbs was compelled to leave college when he did on account of some offence committed against the regulations of the establishment; whether this was true or not, he left Oxford suddenly, and with no other honour than that of being the fastest man who had ever led a gown and town row, or hunted down a citizen’s daughter.
“You’ll be at the club to-night, of course,” Mr. Gibbs said, swinging his eye-glass round, and admiring the perfect fit of a pair of new boots.
“Yes,” said Mr. Richard, “shan’t be able to come before dinner; going to dine with a friend at seven.”
Mr. Gibbs showed his teeth, and said “haw, haw.”
“Will join you by ten,” Mr. Richard continued, smiling, and holding his empty glass between himself and the light to catch its diamond-like sparkles in the sun.
“What’s your little game to-night, then,” inquired Mr. Tallant, junior.
“Nothing, nothing; a bit of quiet Loo and a cigar. Young Hammerton is to join us by-and-by.”