was to mourn, amid the ruins of their reminiscences, over the extinction of excitement.
"Well, Eugene, suppose you come with us," said Lord Fitzheron.
"I think I shall go down to Hampton Court and play tennis," said Lord Eugene. "As it is the Derby, nobody will be there."
"And I will go with you, Eugene," said Alfred Mountchesney, "and we will dine together afterwards at the Toy. Anything is better than dining in this infernal London."
"Well, for my part," said Mr. Berners, "I do not like your suburban dinners. You always get something you can’t eat, and cursed bad wine."
"I rather like bad wine," said Mr. Mountchesney; "one gets so bored with good wine."
"Do you want the odds against Hybiscus, Berners?" said a guardsman looking up from his book, which he had been very intently studying.
"All I want is some supper, and as you are not using your place—
"You shall have it. Oh! here's Milford, he will give them me."
