“If I lay sevens and fours
And you take fives and threes—
What do they care for gaming laws,
Who have not felt the squeeze,
Who sacrifice the world’s applause
And gain ignoble ease?
With odds laid off or on,
And prices up or down——”
He broke off abruptly and rose to his feet. The miscellany in his lap was scattered upon the ground.
“Pick up my work-basket,” he exclaimed, “and give me the kaleidoscope,” I handed him the strange black instrument at which he was pointing, and began groping on my knees among the pins and needles. He turned towards the sun, and gazed at it through the object in his hand.