'Why not?' asked Miss Glitters, who was beguiling the twilight half-hour
before candles with knitting.
'Don't know,' replied Seedeybuck, twirling his moustache, 'don't know--have
a presentiment he won't.'
'Sure to come!' exclaimed Captain Bouncey, knocking the ashes off his cigar
on to the fine Tournay carpet.
'I'll lay ten to one--ten fifties to one--he does,--a thousand to ten if
you like.' If all the purses in the house had been clubbed together, we
don't believe they would have raised fifty pounds.
'What sort of a looking man is he?' asked Miss Glitters, now counting her
loops.
'Oh--whoy--ha--hem--haw--he's just an ordinary sort of lookin' man--nothin'
'tickler any way,' drawled Captain Seedeybuck, now wetting and twirling his
moustache.
'Two legs, a head, a back, and so on, I presume,' observed the lady.
'Just so,' assented Captain Seedeybuck.
'He's a horsey-lookin' sort o' man, I should say,' observed Captain
Bouncey, 'walks as if he ought to be ridin'--wears vinegar tops.'
'Hate vinegar tops,' growled Seedeybuck.
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