Arthur flung his cards upon the table, but without once lifting his eyes. He seemed to feel all that his brother looked, without meeting that full, sad gaze of hopeless sorrow.
"Come, now, Arthur," said Guly, at last, laying his small, girlish hand upon his brother's brow; "you are tired and excited. It is late, too—come with me to our own room."
Arthur was ashamed to show any heed of his brother's words before his present companions, and he drew his head away from the gentle touch of that kindly hand, and remarked that he would go when he chose—not before; that he was used to late hours, and he'd run the risk of all deleterious effects.
"That's it—I like your pluck!" shouted Quirk, too excited by the wine he had drank to heed the presence of the head clerk. "Don't let's be scared out of our rubber by a baby-faced boy, and a big Bible—'hanged if we will."
"You shall not play another round beneath this roof to-night," said Wilkins, resolutely. "If you do not vacate this place within five minutes, I will turn every one of you out of doors by main force."
"I'd like to see you try that game once," replied Quirk, instantly, bending suddenly forward, as if to grasp the book upon the table.
Before he could touch it, Guly had caught it in his own hands.
"This was my mother's Bible. Never shall a defiling finger touch its sacred pages. Oh! Arthur, if there is any brotherly love left in your heart for me, go with me to-night. You well know there is no fear of reproof from me—I could not give it, if I would."
Arthur rose resolutely, swept the gold into his pocket, and took his brother's hand.