We passed, too, whole mornings at picquet, I learning enough of Horace to
quote at the routs we both attended, but a deal more of kings and deuces.
And as I may add, that he got no more of my money than did I of his.

The wonder of it was that we never became friends. He was two men, this
rector of St. Anne's, half of him as lovable as any I ever encountered.
But trust him I never would, always meeting him on the middle ground; and
there were times, after his talks with Grafton, when his eyes were like a
cat's, and I was conscious of a sinister note in his dealing which put me
on my guard.

You will say, my dears, that some change had come over me, that I was no
longer the same lad I have been telling you of.

Those days were not these, yet I make no show of hiding or of palliation.
Was it Dorothy's conduct that drove me? Not wholly. A wild red was ever
in the Carvel blood, in Captain Jack, in Lionel, in the ancestor of King
Charles's day, who fought and bled and even gambled for his king. And my
grandfather knew this; he warned me, but he paid my debts. And I thank
Heaven he felt that my heart was right.

I was grown now, certainly in stature. And having managed one of the
largest plantations in the province, I felt the man, as lads are wont
after their first responsibilities. I commanded my wine at the Coffee
House with the best of the bucks, and was made a member of the South
River and Jockey clubs. I wore the clothes that came out to me from
London, and vied in fashion with Dr. Courtenay and other macaronies.
And I drove a carriage of mine own, the Carvel arms emblazoned thereon,
and Hugo in the family livery.