“Of course not,” said he, sweetly; “but you know, Batchelor, prevention is better than cure, and it seems the kindest thing, doesn’t it, to put temptation quite out of a fellow’s reach when one can?”
“But,” observed I, “it seems to me you are taking it out of Doubleday’s reach and putting it into your own.”
For an instant a shade of vexation crossed his face, but directly afterwards he laughed again in his usual amused manner.
“You forget,” said he, “I live at home, and haven’t the chance of following Doubleday’s example, even if I wished to. In fact, I’m a domestic character.”
He seemed to forget that he had frequently accepted Doubleday’s hospitality and joined in the festivities of the “usual lot.”
“I thought you lived at your uncle’s?” said I.
“Oh, no! My father’s rectory is in Lambeth. But we’re just going to move into the City. I don’t enjoy the prospect, I can assure you! But I say, how are you and your friend Smith getting on now?”
He was always asking me about my friend Smith.
“The same as usual,” said I.
“That’s a pity! He really seems very unreasonable, considering he has so little to be proud of.”