'Do you hunt to-morrow?' asked he of Sir Harry, not having been able to
obtain any information at the stables.
'(Hiccup) to-morrow? Oh, I dare say we shall,' replied Sir Harry, who kept
his hounds as he did his carriages, to be used when wanted. 'Dare say we
shall,' repeated he.
But though Sir Harry spoke thus encouragingly of their prospects, he took
no steps, as far as Mr. Sponge could learn, to carry out the design.
Indeed, the subject of hunting was never once mentioned, the conversation
after dinner, instead of being about the Quorn, or the Pytchley, or Jack
Thompson with the Atherstone, turning upon the elegance and lighting of the
Casinos in the Adelaide Gallery and Windmill Street, and the relative
merits of those establishments over the Casino de Venise in High Holborn.
Nor did morning produce any change for the better, for Sir Harry and all
the captains came down in their usual flashy broken-down player-looking
attire, their whole thoughts being absorbed in arranging for a pool at
billiards, in which the ladies took part.
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