"No, hang it, William, I beg your pardon"--here George interposed in a fit of remorse; "you have been my friend in a hundred ways, Heaven knows. You've got me out of a score of scrapes. When Crawley of the Guards won that sum of money of me I should have been done but for you: I know I should. But you shouldn't deal so hardly with me; you shouldn't be always catechising me. I am very fond of Amelia; I adore her, and that sort of thing. Don't look angry. She's faultless; I know she is. But you see there's no fun in winning a thing unless you play for it. Hang it: the regiment's just back from the West Indies, I must have a little fling, and then when I'm married I'll reform; I will upon my honour, now. And--I say--Dob--don't be angry with me, and I'll give you a hundred next month, when I know my father will stand something handsome; and I'll ask Heavytop for leave, and I'll go to town, and see Amelia to-morrow--there now, will that satisfy you?"

"No, hang it, William, I beg your pardon," George interposed with remorse; "you have been my friend in a hundred ways, Heaven knows. You've got me out of a score of scrapes. When Crawley of the Guards won that money off me I should have been done but for you. But you shouldn't be always preaching at me. I am very fond of Amelia; I adore her, and that sort of thing. Don't look angry. I know she's faultless. But hang it: we're just back from the West Indies. I must have a little fling, and when I'm married I'll reform, upon my honour. Dob - don't be angry, and I'll give you a hundred next month, when I know my father will pay me something handsome; and I'll ask for leave, and go to town, and see Amelia tomorrow. Will that satisfy you?"
