"I'll hedge against you all," he said. "It may bring me luck."
"Well, here goes my last fiver," said Reggie, with a sigh. "If Little Eva's beaten I shall dine with you all in turn next week."
"Have we time for a quarter of a cigarette?" asked Gwendoline. "I feel the gambler's tremors coming on. Look at my hand. It's shaking like a leaf."
"A white rose petal," said Reggie gallantly, "would be a more accurate simile. Have one of mine. They're Russian, and not paid for."
Gwendoline helped herself delicately.
"Reggie," she said, "never pays for anything; he thinks it's vulgar."
"It certainly isn't common," observed Tony. "Reggie carries it to extremes, however. I remember his tailor once saying to him with tears in his voice, 'Ah, Mr. Seton, I shall either have to give you up or else take my lad away from Harrow. I can't afford the two.'"
"And which did he do?" asked Gwendoline puffing out a little cloud of smoke.
Tony waved his hand towards Reggie's perfect frock-coat.
"There," he said, "is the answer."