CHAPTER XXXII.
MONTAGUE ARNOLD IN DIFFICULTY.
Scene, a London club-room. It is an early hour and the dons of
the gay metropolis have not yet put in an appearance. The
handsomely-furnished rooms are almost silent while the endless
array of porters and waiters are on the alert, and cooks are busy
in getting up the various epicurean compounds for which they
are noted and to which the gay votaries of these resorts are ever
ready to pay devoted attention.
"What! here already, chum? You've kept your word for once." Montague
Arnold was somewhat inebriated but still in full possession of his
senses.
Hubert Tracy glanced moodily at his companion and muttered something
in the fashion of an oath, then exclaimed, "and a deuced hard time I
had to get here."
He was dressed in the most elaborate style and notwithstanding his
irregular habits was a prepossessing young man. His chestnut curls
gave a romantic look to his well-shaped head and would have elicited
the admiration of many a fair maiden. "Let us have what you want to
say, Mont."
"I'm afraid that you're not in the listening humor, boy," said the
other with an ill-at-ease look and manner.
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