“You are a cad!”
“And you are a bully?” retorted the other.
This bit of acting was cleverly done, and simulated truth very closely; but I wasn’t deceived by it, and I waited patiently for further developments. The sharper now settled himself snugly in his corner, pulled his cap down over his eyes, and pretended to sleep. After we had passed Melrose, however, he started up, appealed to his watch, yawned, and then remarked—
“This is dreadfully slow work. What do you say, gentlemen, to a game at cards—pour passer le temps?” Nobody spoke.
pour passer le temps?“Will you play, sir?” This to me.
“No, thank you,” I replied. “I don’t care about it.”
Then he asked the two young men, but they declined. For a moment or two he looked at his confederate as though it was in his mind to ask him, but
