"Pooh! but there's Robinson, he has an aunt he can borrow from?"

"Robinson! spitting blood, with an attack of delirium tremens! You have
done for him."

"'Can sorrow from the goblet flow?"' said Losely. "Well, I suppose it
can--when a man has no coats to his stomach; but you and I, Dolly Poole,
have stomachs thick as peajackets, and proof as gutta-percha."

Poole forced a ghastly smile, while Losely, gayly springing up, swept his
share of booty into his pockets, slapped his comrade on the back, and
said, "Then, if the mountain will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet must go to
the mountain! Hang whist, and up with rouge-et-noir! I have an
infallible method of winning; only it requires capital. You will club
your cash with mine, and I 'll play for both. Sup here to night, and
we'll go to the Hell afterwards."

Samuel Dolly had the most perfect confidence in his friend's science in
the art of gambling, and he did not, therefore, dissent from the proposal
made. Jasper gave a fresh touch to his toilet, and stepped into his
cabriolet. Poole cast on him a look of envy, and crawled to his
lodging,--too ill for his desk, and with a strong desire to take to his
bed.




CHAPTER X.