"Very good," replied I.
"How much do you wish to draw for?" inquired the Major.
"I don't want any," replied I. "I have more money than I ought to have
in my desk at this moment."
"Well, then, let us go and order dinner; or perhaps you would like to
stroll about a little more; if so, I will go and order the dinner.
Here's Harcourt, that's lucky. Harcourt my dear fellow, know Mr Newland,
my very particular friend. I must leave you now; take his arm,
Harcourt, for half an hour, and then join us at dinner at the Piazza."
Mr Harcourt was an elegant young man of about five-and-twenty. Equally
pleased with each other's externals, we were soon familiar: he was
witty, sarcastic, and wellbred. After half an hour's conversation he
asked me what I thought of the Major. I looked him in the face and
smiled. "That look tells me that you will not be his dupe, otherwise I
had warned you: he is a strange character: but if you have money enough
to afford to _keep him_, you cannot do better, as he is acquainted with,
and received by, everybody. His connections are good; and he once had a
very handsome fortune, but it was soon run out, and he was obliged to
sell his commission in the Guards. Now he lives upon the world; which as
Shakespeare says, is his oyster; and he has wit and sharpness enough to
open it. Moreover, he has some chance of falling into a peerage; that
prospect, and his amusing qualities, added to his being the most
fashionable man about town, keeps his head above water. I believe Lord
Windermear, who is his cousin, very often helps him."
"It was Lord Windermear who introduced me to him," observed I.
"Then he will not venture to play any tricks upon you, further than
eating your dinners, borrowing your money, and forgetting to pay it."
"You must acknowledge," said I, "he always tells you beforehand that he
never will pay you."
"And that is the only point in which he adheres to his word," replied
Harcourt, laughing; "but, tell me, am I to be _your_ guest to-day?"
"If you will do me that honour."
"I assure you I am delighted to come, as I shall have a further
opportunity of cultivating your acquaintance."
"Then we had better bend our steps towards the hotel, for it is late,"
replied I; and we did so accordingly.
Chapter XXII
The real Simon Pure proves the worse of the two--I am found guilty,
but not condemned; convicted, yet convince; and after having
behaved the very contrary to, prove that I am, a gentleman.
On our arrival, we found the table spread, champagne in ice under the
sideboard, and apparently everything prepared for a sumptuous dinner,
the Major on the sofa giving directions to the waiter, and Timothy
looking all astonishment.
"Major," said I, "I cannot tell you how much I am obliged to you for
your kindness in taking all this trouble off my hands, that I might
follow up the agreeable introduction you have given me to Mr Harcourt."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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