'
'It's an ungenerous world,' observed Sponge, 'and it's no use being abused
for nothing. What sort of a genius is Pacey? Is he inclined to go the
pace?'
'Oh, quite,' replied Jack; 'his great desire is to be thought a
sportsman.'
'A sportsman or a sporting man?' asked Sponge.
'W-h-o-y! I should say p'raps a sportin' man more than the sportsman,'
replied Jack. 'He's a great lumberin' lad, buttons his great stomach into a
Newmarket cutaway, and carries a betting-book in his breast pocket.'
'Oh, he's a bettor, is he!' exclaimed Sponge, brightening up.
'He's a raw poult of a chap,' replied Jack; 'just ready for anything--in a
small way, at least--a chap that's always offering two to one in
half-crowns. He'll have money, though, and can't be far off age. His father
was a great spectacle-maker. You have heard of Pacey's spectacles?'
'Can't say as how I have,' replied Sponge, adding, 'they are more in your
line than mine.'
The further consideration of the youth was interrupted by the entrance of a
footman with hot water, who announced that dinner would be ready in half an
hour.
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