unremitting and thoughtless good nature.

"I couldn't help it," pleaded the lad, with coaxing and almost piteous
apology. "I backed Grosvenor's play, and you know he's always the most
wonderful luck in the world. I couldn't tell he'd go a crowner and have
such cards as he had. How shall I get the money, Bertie? I daren't
ask the governor; and besides I told Poulteney he should have it this
morning. What do you think if I sold the mare? But then I couldn't sell
her in a minute----"

Cecil laughed a little, but his eyes, as they rested on the lad's young,
fair, womanish face, were very gentle under the long shade of their
lashes.

"Sell the mare! Nonsense! How should anybody live without a hack? I
can pull you through, I dare say. Ah! by George, there's the quarters
chiming. I shall be too late, as I live."

Not hurried still, however; even by that near prospect, he sauntered to
his dressing-table, took up one of the pretty velvet and gold-filigreed
absurdities, and shook out all the banknotes there were in it. There
were fives and tens enough to count up 45 pounds. He reached over
and caught up a five from a little heap lying loose on a novel of Du
Terrail's, and tossed the whole across the room to the boy.

"There you are, young one! But don't borrow of any but your own people
again, Berk. We don't do that. No, no!--no thanks! Shut up all that. If
ever you get in a hole, I'll take you out if I can. Good-by--will you
go to the Lords? Better not--nothing to see, and still less to hear. All
stale. That's the only comfort for us--we are outside!" he said, with