Brodie. I really cannot pretend to guess. I have met the creature at cock-fights (which, as you know, are my weakness). Perhaps he bets.
Hunt. (Mr. Deacon, from what I know of the gentleman, I should say that if he don’t—if he ain’t open to any mortal thing—he ain’t the man I mean.) He used to be about with a man called Badger Moore.
Brodie. The boxer?
Hunt. That’s him. Know anything of him?
Brodie. Not much. I lost five pieces on him in a fight; and I fear he sold his backers.
Hunt. Speaking as one admirer of the noble art to another, Mr. Deacon, the losers always do. I suppose the Badger cock-fights like the rest of us?
Brodie. I have met him in the pit.
Hunt. Well, it’s a pretty sport. I’m as partial to a main as anybody.
Brodie. It’s not an elegant taste, Mr. Hunt.