"Indeed, sir, uncle George mentioned something of this yesterday, though such conduct in Anthony is quite incomprehensible." "Not content with this, the young fool is gambling desperately, haunts all the noted hells--I heard he dropped over a thousand recently in a few hours; his recklessness is becoming a byword." "Good heavens, Uncle! Is he mad?" "That you may ask him personally. I understand he intends honouring you with a visit this afternoon. He should be here shortly, unless he happens to be drunk. You are his friend, Peregrine; talk to him as such, endeavour to stem the tide of his folly, if only for his young wife's sake. Curb his madness if you can, it should be an occupation for your leisure not without interest." Thus we conversed at large and upon many topics but spoke no further regarding her of whom we both were thinking; and thus, I believe, we were both of us a little relieved to hear a distant "view hallo." "There rides your friend Vere-Manville, I think, Peregrine, and evidently a trifle hilarious!" A trampling of hoofs in the paved yard below, and glancing from the window I espied Anthony sure enough, who, leaping from the saddle, reeled violently and clutched at the stalwart George to save himself. "Aha!" he exclaimed, "seems something's matter wi' old mother earth, George--heaving damnably--up and down, George--unless it's my legs. Where's door, George? Aye, there 'tis. Seems dooced small--unless it's my eyes, George--ha ha!" So he blundered in and heavily up the stair, and after knocking thunderously, entered. At sight of my uncle Jervas, he halted, drew himself very erect and bowed profoundly and with a flourish, and when he spoke his speech was so thick that I dreaded lest he hiccough: "Your servant, S' Jervas! Hope I see y' well, sir?" My uncle's bow was extremely stately and distant. "Peregrine," said he, "seeing you have--enlivening company, I will take occasion to go and meet your aunt Julia. Mr. Vere-Manville, I would venture to impress upon you that my nephew is still very much of an invalid." So saying, my uncle saluted us in turn with his grandest air and went out, closing the door behind him. "Thinks I'm drunk, does he!" exclaimed Anthony, scowling after him. "Well, what the devil--so I am, damned d-drunk and so much the better--" "So much the worse, Anthony!" "Tush, you talk like a fool, Perry; better be drunk and forget than be sober and a s-suicide--felo--felo-de-se, buried at cross road--stake through your inside--devilish unpleasant business--" "You talk like a madman, Anthony." "And you like a f-fool, Perry! Here's you come back t' life like a fool, instead o' dying comfortably and respectably like--wise man. Here's you hoping and yearning to marry and that's the damndest folly of all. Much better be comfortably dead--" "For shame, Anthony--for shame!" cried I angrily. "If you have so lost respect for yourself--at least think of and respect your wife--"