Gilks said nothing, but walked on evidently out of humour, and Wibberly having nothing better to do accompanied him.
“By the way,” said the latter, presently, seeing his companion was not disposed to continue the former conversation, “what’s up between you and Silk? Is it true you’ve had a row?”
Gilks growled out something which sounded very like an oath, and replied, “Yes.”
“What about?” inquired the inquisitive Wibberly, who seemed to have the knack of hitting upon unwelcome topics.
“It wouldn’t do you any good to know,” growled Gilks.
“I heard it was some betting row, or something of that sort,” said Wibberly.
“Eh?—yes—something of that sort,” said Gilks.
“Well,” said Wibberly, “I never cared much for Silk. He always seemed to know a little too much for me. I wouldn’t break my heart if I were you.”
“I don’t mean to,” said Gilks, but in a tone which belied the words, and even struck Wibberly by its wretchedness.
“I say,” said he, “you’re awfully down in the mouth these times. What’s wrong?”