"Come with me to Epping Forest," I said. "There's a four-horse brake
starts from Charing Cross at eleven. It's Saturday, and there's bound to
be a crowd down there. I'll play you a game of skittles, and we will
have a shy at the cocoa-nuts. You used to be rather smart at cocoa-nuts.
We can have lunch there and be back at seven, dine at the Troc., spend
the evening at the Empire, and sup at the Savoy. What do you say?"
He stood hesitating on the steps, a wistful look in his eyes.
His brougham drew up against the curb, and he started as if from a dream.
"My dear fellow," he replied, "what would people say?" And shaking me by
the hand, he took his seat, and the footman slammed the door upon him.