I
was accidentally so much more explicit with you than it had ever
entered into my game to be, that I find this game--I mean the
pleasure of playing it--suffers considerably. In short, if you can
understand it, I've rather spoiled my sport. I really don't want
to give anybody what I believe you clever young men call the tip.
That's of course a selfish solicitude, and I name it to you for
what it may be worth to you. If you're disposed to humour me don't
repeat my revelation. Think me demented--it's your right; but
don't tell anybody why."
The sequel to this communication was that as early on the morrow as
I dared I drove straight to Mr. Vereker's door. He occupied in
those years one of the honest old houses in Kensington Square. He
received me immediately, and as soon as I came in I saw I hadn't
lost my power to minister to his mirth. He laughed out at sight of
my face, which doubtless expressed my perturbation. I had been
indiscreet--my compunction was great. "I HAVE told somebody," I
panted, "and I'm sure that person will by this time have told
somebody else! It's a woman, into the bargain."
"The person you've told?"
"No, the other person. I'm quite sure he must have told her."
"For all the good it will do her--or do ME! A woman will never
find out.
Pages:
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34