“D—— it,” says a match-seller, “there goes eighteenpence. I brought in two shillings; I’ll now not have enough left for my Sunday’s dinner.”
All this was said with the most perfect good humour, and at the same time putting down the other stake.
Occasionally one of those fiend-like looks, which are said to be so conspicuous at the splendid hells, might be seen stealing even across this low swindling table. But, upon the whole, the party was very sociable, winning and losing their money with the utmost equanimity of temper.
We observed more than one put down their last penny, and then light their pipes and walk out, puffing and humming away, in search of more.
