This is only an expurgated copy of what Dennison said, as a matter of fact he called Ward and me much worse names than a pick-pocket, and qualified them with adjectives too violent to be recorded.
I looked blankly at Ward, who had his head down and looked thoroughly ashamed of himself.
"It is one of the few times in my life," he said, "when I have tried to do the right thing, and it seems to have been all wrong."
There was only one line to take, and I started on it at once. "That's rot," I began, "because you suggested the whole thing, and if you felt like owning up to it no one else has any right to swear at you. Dennison is altogether different, and if he goes to the Subby everybody else will have to go. We are like a lot of school-boys."
I thought my last remark a sound one, for Dennison pretended to despise boys, because he said they always got up so late for morning school that they had not time to wash properly. There was always a faint smell of scent about Dennison, which did not make me take much notice of his opinion about school-boys.
I cannot even now tell whether he was really angry or whether he was just pretending a rage to put us into a hole. I did find out afterwards that he knew all the time that Ward had given up his name, so if he pretended one thing I do not see why he should not have pretended another. But the result was the same whether he was shamming or not. Ward and I implored him not to go to the Subby, for quite ten minutes during that damp and shivery afternoon we besought him to leave things as they were. And at last with great reluctance he gave way, and to please us he said that he would forgive Ward for having done rather a mean thing, and he pardoned me for having been so rude. Of course we were most properly taken in, but that was the fate of most men who had much to do with Dennison, and I was so glad to be at peace once more that it did not occur to me then that Ward and I were two colossal idiots.
I went round to see Foster after the match, but found that he was going to dine early with the Richmond team, so he did not tell me anything except that he had got a splitting headache. Each time I had been to see him for the last fortnight he had either been out, just going out, or had a room full of men with him. Whenever he had come to see me the same kind of things had happened, so we had not managed to have one respectable talk together. I determined that this was most unsatisfactory, so after dinner I wrote him a note, asking him to go for a walk with me on the following day, and then I went to see Jack Ward. My opinion of him had been changing all day, and as I went to his room I felt that whatever Foster and Murray said about him, he was at bottom a splendid sort. Roulette was going on in his rooms, and the usual crowd were playing. Ward was banker, and he did not even ask me to play, but roulette is a very difficult game to watch without playing, and after black had come up six times consecutively, I thought it must be red's turn. It was not, however, and five times I lost my money; then I had sense enough to stop for a bit until the numbers began to fascinate me, and I picked nineteen, being my age. A lot of people may say I was old enough to know better, but it is so easy to make remarks of that kind, and until they find something a little less stale, they will never do any good. I stood by the table at first, and then sat down and made up my mind to get my money back. I tried everything in turn, but luck was dead against me, and Ward once or twice said he wished I would win something. In the end I lost nearly six pounds, and went back to my rooms a sorrowful man. Before I went into my bedder I looked at my cheque-book, and it gave me no satisfaction. I had borrowed four pounds from Ward, and I wrote him a cheque for the amount, and laying it on the table beside me, I sat thinking. My door was wide open, and I must have been nearly asleep, for I did not see any one come into my room, and a hand falling on my shoulder surprised me. I looked up and saw Ward standing by my side.