"
"Oh, as usual, occupying a middle ground between the two. Are you
coming upstairs, Fred?"
A smile ran around the circle.
"At it again, Fenton?" Ainsworth asked. "You'll have to go West and be
made a senator if you keep on playing poker every night."
"If I don't have better luck than I've been having lately," Fenton
rejoined, as he and Rangely left the room, "I should have to have a
subscription taken up to pay my travelling expenses."
The card-rooms were upstairs, and Fenton and Rangely went to them
without speaking. The artist was speculating whether a ruse he had just
executed would be successful; his companion was thinking of the news he
had just had from New York, that a girl with whom he had flirted at the
mountains last summer was about to visit Boston.
Around a baize-covered table in the card-room sat three or four men, in
one of whom Rangely recognized the corpulent and vulgar person of Mr.
Erastus Snaffle. He nodded to him with an air of qualifying his
recognition with certain mental reservations, while Fenton said as he
took his place beside Chauncy Wilson, who moved to make room for him,--
"Good evening, Mr. Snaffle. Have you come up to clean the club out
again?"
Mr. Snaffle looked up as if he did not fully comprehend, but he
chuckled as he answered,--
"I should think it was time. I was never inside this club that I didn't
get bled.
Pages:
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181