So did pore Dawkinses, as he put out his hand, all trembling, and drew them in.
“Let me say,” added master, “let me say (and I've had some little experience), that you are the very best ecarte player with whom I ever sat down.”
Dawkinses eyes glissened as he put the money up, and said, “Law, Deuceace, you flatter me.”
FLATTER him! I should think he did. It was the very think which master ment.
“But mind you, Dawkins,” continyoud he, “I must have my revenge; for I'm ruined—positively ruined by your luck.”
“Well, well,” says Mr. Thomas Smith Dawkins, as pleased as if he had gained a millium, “shall it be to-morrow? Blewitt, what say you?”
Mr. Blewitt agreed, in course. My master, after a little demurring, consented too. “We'll meet,” says he, “at your chambers. But mind, my dear fello, not too much wine: I can't stand it at any time, especially when I have to play ecarte with YOU.”
Pore Dawkins left our rooms as happy as a prins. “Here, Charles,” says he, and flung me a sovring. Pore fellow! pore fellow! I knew what was a-comin!
But the best of it was, that these 13 sovrings which Dawkins won, MASTER HAD BORROWED THEM FROM MR. BLEWITT! I brought 'em, with 7 more, from that young genlmn's chambers that very morning: for, since his interview with master, Blewitt had nothing to refuse him.
Well, shall I continue the tail? If Mr. Dawkins had been the least bit wiser, it would have taken him six months befoar he lost his money; as it was, he was such a confunded ninny, that it took him a very short time to part with it.