'That is all rot about your being so old, Sir Nugent,' said Lord Forestfield gruffly; 'I can guess your age pretty well. I had just gone to Eton when that affair of yours with Mrs. Moggs, or whatever her name was, came off; and I recollect quite well all the fellows talking about it, and I wondered--' 'All the fellows have talked about it rather too much, Lord Forestfield,' said Uffington, touching him lightly on the arm; 'and I object to its being further discussed.' 'O, very well; I don't want to say anything more about it,' said Lord Forestfield, with a forced laugh. 'What will you do now? that is the thing. Are you fond of a game at cards? You might like to cut in at this whist-table; I am not going to play any more--these fellows don't play high enough for me--and you can have my place.' 'Thanks,' said Uffington, 'but I confess when I play I like to have some excitement. I like to rise up with the knowledge that I have either won or lost something considerable--not merely a few francs which will pay for my cab home, or which I shall not miss the next morning. The man who said that the greatest pleasure in life next to winning money at cards was losing it, was not far off the truth.' 'Gad, you are full of pluck,' said Lord Forestfield. 'It isn't often you hear fellows talk like that now.' 'That is because the men of the present day go into card-playing as they go into everything else,' said Uffington--'horse-racing, courting, what not, for the mere sordid sake of making money. They care nothing for the excitement of the game; they merely look to its pecuniary results--that is the feeling which, carried to an excess, turns high-bred gentlemen into club sharpers, and destroys the best elements which constitute society.' 'Yes, I daresay,' said Lord Forestfield, with a yawn, having been rather bored with this dissertation, 'no doubt what you say is quite right. By the way, do you play écarté?' 'Yes,' said Uffington, 'I play most games after a fashion.' 'Let us have a turn then,' said Lord Forestfield. 'I rather fancy myself at écarté, do you know?' 'Then you won't mind the stakes being high,' said Uffington. 'As I told you before, it seems to me waste of time to give oneself the trouble of playing with the interchange of a few shillings for the result.' 'O, I am on,' said Lord Forestfield. 'I don't mind particularly what the stakes are--let us say fifty pounds a game; you can raise your interest to what you like by betting on the hand.' 'That will do for me,' said Uffington. Then turning to Madame de Nerval, he said, 'If I had had the good fortune to make madame's acquaintance earlier, I should have asked her to wish me success. Now I have to struggle, not merely against my antagonist's skill, but against the knowledge that your prayers are being preferred in his favour.'