“You haven’t given up playing, then?” he said.
“No, I never shall now—the cards have got their grip on me. You’re looking sick, Lal,” said the elder man, earnestly; “what’s the matter?”
“I got hurt, you know.”
“Oh yes, I heard about that in the papers. You came back in a regular blaze of glory; I was awfully proud of knowing you. Is your sister all right?”
“Angela? Perfectly—about to marry, I fancy.”
“Is the man a good sort?”
“Oh, very. I think she will be happy.”
“Been doing any more of your own work?”
“At intervals. When the chance comes.”
Meryon jerked the bottom of the pack down on the table, and pressed and patted it straight between his palms. “Try a game of écarté?” he suggested.