“My lord! we shall look for you.”
The drawing-room door was closed, the ladies remaining inside. The three gentlemen guests were in the entrance hall, footman and butler helping them to hat and surtout. Though they had not come in, all three went out together.
“Where now?” asked Lucas, as they stood upon the flags of the Fifth Avenue. “It’s too early to go to bed.”
“A vewy sensible obsawvation, fwiend Lucas!” said Swinton, inspired by a free potation of the widow’s choice wines. “Where do yaw say?”
“Well, I say, let’s have some sport. Have you got any money upon you, Mr Swinton?”
Mr Lucas was still ignorant that his companion was a lord.
“Oh, yas—yas. A thousand of your demmed dollars, I believe.”
“Excuse me for putting the question. I only asked in case you might require a stake. If you do, my little pile’s at your service.”
“Thanks—thanks! I’m weady for spawt—stake all pawvided.”