Reginald coloured up. Little his comrade knew what that half-sovereign had cost him!
He relapsed into silence, and had to derive what compensation he could from the fast talk in which the other three engaged, apparently heedless of his presence.
In due time the meal ended, and Blandford called for the bills.
Until that moment Reginald had never imagined for a moment but that he had been dining as his old schoolfellow’s guest. He had understood Blandford’s request of his company as an invitation, and as an invitation he had accepted it, and as an invitation he had repented of it. What, then, was his embarrassment to find a bill for six shillings and sixpence laid down before him as his share of the entertainment!
For a moment a flush of relief passed across his face. He was glad not to find himself under obligations to Blandford after all. But in another moment relief was changed to horror as he remembered that three shillings was all the money he had about him. Oh, the humiliation, the anguish of this discovery! He would have had anything happen rather than this.
He sat staring at the bill like a being petrified.
“Come along,” said Blandford, “let’s go to the smoking-room. I suppose you fellows will have coffee there. Coffee for four, waiter. Are you ready?”
But Reginald did not move, nor did the waiter.
“What’s the row?” said Blandford to the latter.
The waiter pointed to Reginald’s bill.