He knew his
business well, but yet there would be mistakes.
Now, at this very moment, was the culmination of the Major's life.
He was Master of Runnymede Hounds, he was partner with the eldest
son of a Duke in the possession of that magnificent colt, the
Prime Minister, and he was a member of the Beargarden. He was a
man who had often been despondent about himself, but was now
disposed to be little triumphant. He had finished his season well
with the Runnymede, and were it not that, let him work as he
would, his expenses always exceeded his means, he would have been
fairly comfortable.
At eight o'clock Lord Silverbridge and his friend met in the
dining-room of the Beargarden. 'Have you been here before?' asked
the Lord.
'Not in here, my Lord. I just looked in at the smoking-room last
night. Glasslough and Nidderdale were there. I thought we should
have got up a rubber, but they didn't seem to see it.'
'There is whist there generally. You'll find out all about it
before long. Perhaps they are a little afraid of you.'
'I'm the worst hand at cards, I suppose, In England.
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