"We have been
fools, and have paid for it. You thought you could find your enemy
in London, and find the hiding-place too big. I thought I could
write, and find I cannot. As for legitimate work, sixteen and
eightpence halfpenny, even with economy, will hardly carry us on for
three years."
I rose. "I will have one more walk in Oxford Street," I said,
"and then come home and see this miserable farce of starvation out."
"Don't be a fool, Jasper. It is difficult, I know, to perish with
dignity on sixteen and eightpence halfpenny: the odd coppers spoil
the effect. Still we might bestow them on a less squeamish beggar
and redeem our pride."
"Tom," I said, suddenly, "you lost a lot of money once over
_rouge-et-noir_."
"Don't remind me of that, Jasper."
"No, no; but where did you lose it?"
"At a gambling hell off Leicester Square. But why--"
"Should you know the place again? Could you find it?"
"Easily."
"Then let us go and try our luck with this miserable sum."
"Don't be a fool, Jasper. What mad notion has taken you now?"
"I have never gambled in my life," I answered, "and may as well have
a little excitement before the end comes.
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