He then 'backed' his
ideas to where he had left off, and again began speculating on the chances
of his position. 'Deuced fine girls,' said he, 'both of 'em: wonder what
he'll give 'em down?'--recurring to his over-night speculations, and
hitting upon the point at which he had burnt his lips with the end of the
cigar--namely, Jawleyford's youth, and the possibility of his marrying
again if Mrs. Jawleyford were to die. 'It won't do to raise up
difficulties for one's self, however,' mused he; so, kicking off the
bedclothes, he raised himself instead, and making for a window, began to
gaze upon his expectant territory.
It was a terrible day; the ragged, spongy clouds drifted heavily along, and
the lowering gloom was only enlivened by the occasional driving rush of the
tempest. Earth and sky were pretty much the same grey, damp, disagreeable
hue.
'Well,' said Sponge to himself, having gazed sufficiently on the uninviting
landscape, 'it's just as well it's not a hunting day--should have got
terribly soused. Must get through the time as well as I can--girls to talk
to--house to see.
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