"What?--out with it, my dear Miss Nugent."

"I am afraid of offending you."

"You can't, my dear, I defy you--say the word that came to the
tongue's end; it's always the best."

"I was going to say, swindling," said the young lady, colouring
deeply.

"Oh, you was going to say wrong, then! It's not called swindling
amongst gentlemen who know the world--it's only jockeying--fine
sport--and very honourable to help a friend at a dead lift. Any thing
to help a friend out of a present pressing difficulty."

"And when the present difficulty is over, do your friends never think
of the future?"

"The future! leave the future to posterity," said Sir Terence; "I'm
counsel only for the present; and when the evil comes, it's time
enough to think of it. I can't bring the guns of my wits to bear till
the enemy's alongside of me, or within sight of me at the least. And
besides, there never was a good commander yet, by sea or land, that
would tell his little expedients beforehand, or before the very day of
battle."

"It must be a sad thing," said Miss Nugent, sighing deeply, "to be
reduced to live by little expedients--daily expedients."