saying. 'Sunday or Monday, it's no matter; you'll be home before
eleven o'clock, and you'll come home sober. You're no better than a
pig!'

'Arry was seated in a far corner of the room, where he had dropped
his body on entering. His attire was such as the cheap tailors turn
out in imitation of extreme fashions: trousers closely moulded upon
the leg, a huff waistcoat, a short coat with pockets everywhere. A
very high collar kept his head up against his will; his necktie was
crimson, and passed through a brass ring; he wore a silver
watch-chain, or what seemed to be such. One hand was gloved, and a
cane lay across his knees. His attitude was one of relaxed muscles,
his legs very far apart, his body not quite straight.

'What d' you call sober, I'd like to know?' he replied, with
looseness of utterance. 'I'm as sober 's anybody in this room. If a
chap can't go out with 's friends 't Easter an' all--?'

'Easter, indeed! It's getting to be a regular thing, Saturday and
Sunday. Get up and go to bed! I'll have my say out with you in the
morning, young man.'

'Go to bed!' repeated the lad with scorn. 'Tell you I ain't had no
supper.'

Richard had walked to the neighbourhood of the fireplace, and was
regarding his brother with anger and contempt. At this point of the
dialogue he interfered.

'And you won't have any, either, that I'll see to! What's more,