Well, what's the damage?"
The young fellow who had sat with his head bowed over his cards looked
up with a sickly smile.
"Yes, what's the damage?" he said. "I can't be bothered--I've lost
count. You and I must have done pretty badly, Phipps."
"I dare say we shall survive," his partner rejoined carelessly. "We
have lost five rubbers. How does that work out, Webb?"
"I'll trouble you for a hundred each," Webb answered, after a minute's
calculation. "Quite a nice, profitable evening for us, eh, Saunders.
Thanks, awfully, old fellow." He gathered up the rupees which the
boy's partner had pushed toward him. The boy himself sat as though
frozen to stone. Only when Saunders gave him a friendly nudge, he
started and looked about him as though he had been awakened out of a
trance.
"I'm awfully sorry," he stuttered; "you and Webb--would you mind
waiting till to-morrow? I'll raise it somehow--I haven't got so
much--"
Phipps broke into a laugh.
"You silly young duffer!" he said. "What have you been doing with your
pocket money, eh? Been buying too many sweeties?"
The other two men roared, but the boy's features never relaxed.
"I tell you I haven't got so much with me," he mumbled. "I'll bring it
to-morrow, I promise."
Webb rose from his chair, stretching himself languidly.
"All right," he agreed. "To-morrow will do. By Jove, what a gorgeous
night it is!" He leaned over the balustrade, lifting his aristocratic
face to the sky.
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