“No, thank you,” said Harry; “I don’t intend to lose more than my purse can bear.”
“Oh, oh! the young one has a touch of pride about him!” Gilby whispered, loud enough, however, for Harry to hear him.
Harry drew out his last five guineas. He staked them and lost. Sleech came up to him, and put a roll of gold into his hand.
“You can pay me at your convenience. Don’t stop now, or it would ruin all.”
Harry fully believed that he should recover his loss. One hundred, two hundred pounds soon went. Again Sleech was by his side, and repeated his offer.
“Nonsense; I will take no refusal.”
Harry took the gold and lost it. He retained his countenance wonderfully. Gilby smiled.
“You had better borrow of me,” he whispered.
“No, thank you; my friend has my purse,” answered Harry, with a certain amount of prevarication.
It was getting late. Harry lost still more. Sleech poured out a tumbler of wine, which Harry tossed off. Silas led him away to a desk in a recess.