"Playing regularly, you know. If I hadn't been a fool I'd have stuck to
that, but I got bitten with chemi."

"With what?" asked Nora, over her shoulder.

"Chemin de fer. Never heard of it? I got in the habit of going to
Thornton's. I suppose you never heard of him either. He keeps a gambling
hell. Gives you a slap-up supper for nothing, as much pop as you can
drink, and cashes your checks like a bird. The result is, I've lost
every bob I had and then Thornton sued me on a check I'd given him. The
governor forked out, but he says I've got to go to Canada. I'm never
going to gamble again, I can tell you that."

"Oh, well, that's something," murmured Nora cheerfully.

"You can't make money at chemi," went on Hornby, relapsing once more
into gloom; "the _cagnotte's_ bound to clear you out in the end. When I
come back I'm going to stick to bridge. There are always plenty of mugs
about, and if you have a good head for cards, you can't help making an
income out of it."

"But I thought you said you were never going----" began Miss Pringle,
but, thinking better of it, abandoned her sentence in mid-air.

"Here is your letter," said Nora, holding it out to him.

"Thanks, awfully. I daresay I shan't want it, you know. I expect I shall
get offered a job the moment I land, but there's no harm having it. I'll
be getting along."