of a man
who had drunk too much; "when we see a little more of each other, we 'll
get on famously. You know the world, and I know the world. You have had
your dealings with men, and I have had my dealings with men, and we know
what's what. Ain't I right, Bramleigh?"

"I have no doubt there is much truth in what you say."

"Truth, truth, it's true as gospel! There's only one thing, however,
to be settled between us. Each must make his little concession with
reci-procity--reci-procity, ain't it?"

"Quite so; but I don't see your meaning."

"Here it is, then, Bramleigh; here's what I mean. If we 're to march
together we must start fair. No man is to have more baggage than his
neighbor. If I 'm to give up chaff, do you see, you must give up humbug.
If I 'm not to have my bit of fun, old boy, you 're not to come over me
about doing something for Ireland, that's all," and with this he lounged
out, banging the door after him as he went.

Mr. Cutbill, as he went to his room, had a certain vague suspicion that
he had drunk more wine than was strictly necessary, and that the liquor
was not impossibly stronger than he had suspected. He felt, too, in the
same vague way, that there had been a passage of arms between his host
and himself; but as to what it was about, and who was the victor, he had
not the shadow of a conception.

Neither did his ordinary remedy of pouring the contents of his water-jug
over his head aid him on this occasion.

"I'm not a bit sleepy; nonsense!" muttered he, "so I'll go and see what
they are doing in the smoking-room."

Here he found the three young men of the house in that semi-thoughtful
dreariness which is supposed to be the captivation of tobacco; as if the
mass of young Englishmen needed anything to deepen the habitual gloom of
their natures, or thicken the sluggish apathy that follows them into all
inactivity.

"How jolly," cried Cutbill, as he entered. "I 'll be shot if I believed
as I came up the stairs that there was any one here. You haven't even
got brandy and seltzer."

"If you touch that bell, they 'll bring it," said Augustus, languidly.

"Some Moselle for me," said Temple, as the servant entered.

"I'm glad you've come, Cutty," cried Jack; "as old Kemp used to say,
anything is better than a dead calm; even a mutiny."

"What an infernal old hurdy-gurdy! Why haven't you a decent piano here,
if you have one at all?" said Cutbill, as he ran his hands over the keys
of a discorda