“Moonshine!” cried Roland.
“Is it moonshine, though? It is just a little bit of serious fact, Yorke. When lord chancellors turn against us and dash our hopes, we can’t go on as though the exchequer had no bottom to it.”
“It will cost you nothing to come to Cator’s. He is expecting one or two fellows, and has laid in a prime lot of Manillas.”
“Evening visiting costs a great deal, one way or another,” returned Hamish, “and I intend to drop most of mine for the present. You needn’t stare so, Yorke.”
“I am staring at you. Drop evening visiting! Any one, dropping that, may expect to be in a lunatic asylum in six months.”
“What a prospect for me!” laughed Hamish.
“Will you come to Cator’s?”
“No, thank you.”
“Then you are a muff!” retorted Roland, as he went on.
It was dusk when they reached the cathedral.