"Look here, old man, why should we be deprived of our final little flutter? I want to give you a chance of getting back the whole thing."
"Not at all, my good fellow," Lionel said, with a smile. "Why don't you keep the money and rest content? Do you think I grudge it to you?"
"Come—an absolutely last double or quits," said the other, and he pulled out a coin from his pocket and put it between his two palms. "Heads or tails?—and then go home happy!"
"Well, since you challenge me, I'll go this once more, and this once more only. I call a tail."
The upper hand was removed: in the dull lamp-light the dusky gold coin was examined.
"It's a head," said Lionel, "so that's all right, and it's you who are to go home happy. I'll settle up with you to-morrow evening. Do you want this hansom?—I don't: I think I'd rather walk. Good-night, Johnny."
It was a long price to pay for a few hours of distraction and forgetfulness; still, he had had these; and the loss of the money, per se, did not affect him much. He walked away home. When he reached his rooms, there were some letters for him lying on the table; he took them and looked at them; he noticed one handwriting that used to be rather more familiar. This letter he opened first.
Aivron Lodge, Campden Hill, Feb. 23.
"My dear Mr. Moore,—It is really quite shocking the way you have neglected us of late, and I, at least, cannot imagine any reason. Perhaps we have both been in fault. My sisters and I have all been very busy, in our several ways; and then it is awkward you should have only the one Sunday evening free. But there, let bygones be bygones, and come and dine with us on Sunday, March 3, at 8. Forgive the short notice; I've had some trouble in trying to secure one, or two people whom I don't know very well, and I couldn't fix earlier. The fact is, I want it to be an intellectual little dinner; and who could represent music and the drama so fitly as yourself? I want only people with brains at it—perhaps you wouldn't include Rockminster in that category, but I must have him to help me, as my husband is away in Scotland looking after his beasts. Now do be good-natured, dear Mr. Moore, and say you will come.
"And I am going to try your goodness another way. You remember speaking to me about a friend of yours who was connected with newspapers, and who knew some of the London correspondents of the provincial journals? Could you oblige me with his address and the correct spelling of his name? I presume he would not consider it out of the way if I wrote to him as being a friend of yours, and enclosed a card of invitation. I want to have all the talents—that is, all of them I can get to come and honor the house of a mere novice and beginner. I did not catch either your friend's surname or his Christian name.