“How did you manage, then?”
“Oh, I made so much more by banking.”
“By banking?” repeated Herbert, in astonishment.
“Yes; only it was a faro bank. I used to pick up considerable that way, sometimes.”
“A faro bank!” repeated Herbert, in dismay. “Why, that's the same as gambling, isn't it?”
“Well, what's the odds? You take your chance, and you may win or lose. It's a pretty fair thing.”
After this confession, Herbert became more than ever doubtful whether he should care to remain long in the company of his present companion.
Meanwhile, the cars were moving rapidly. Peter Greenleaf, as he called himself, talked volubly, and appeared to have a considerable familiarity with certain phases of life, the knowledge of which was not likely to have been very profitable to him. Still, Herbert was interested in his communications, though the opinion which he formed of him was far from favorable.
“Where are you going to stop when you get to New York?” inquired Peter.
“I don't know anything about the city. I suppose I shall have to go to a hotel first.”