"
"Oh, I say now!"
"Its the truth."
"If a fiver will help you. . . ."
"Thanks. A wager's a wager. I've lost. I was a bally fool to play
cards. Deserve what I got. Six months; that's the agreement. A
madman's wager; but I'll stick."
"Six months; twelve o'clock, midnight, November thirteenth. It's the
date, old boy; that's what hoodooed you, as the Americans say."
Kitty wasn't sure that the speaker was English; if he was, he had lost
the insular significance of his vowels. Still, it was, in its way, as
pleasant a voice as the other's. There was no doubt about the younger
man; he was English to the core, English in his love of chance, English
in his loyalty to his word; stupidly English. That he was the younger
was a trifling matter to deduce: no young man ever led his elder into
mischief, harmful or innocuous.
"Six months. It's a joke, my boy; a great big laugh for you and me,
when there's nothing left in life but toddies and churchwardens. Six
months."
"I dare say I can hang on till that time is over. Well, good night!
No letters, no addresses.
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