Читать книгу Wrecked in Port. A Novel онлайн

70 страница из 82

"What? All gaff, eh? Old Jack Byrne sold, eh? Swallowed his brandy, and want to cut--is that the caper?"

"I beg your pardon, I don't quite clearly understand you, I'm sorry to say"--for Walter knew by the tone of his voice that the old man was annoyed--"I'm very weak and rather stupid--I mean to say, in--in the ways and the talk of London--and I don't clearly follow what you said to me just now; only you were so kind to me at first, that----"

"Provinces!" muttered the old man to himself. "Just like me; treating him to my pavement patter, and thinking he understood it! All right, I think, as far as one can judge, though God knows that's often wrong enough!" Then, aloud, "Kind! nonsense! I'm an odd old skittle, and talk an odd language; but I've seen the ups and downs of life, my lad, and can give you good advice if I can't give anything else. Have you anything to do to-night? Nothing? Sure I'm not keeping you from the Opera, or any swell party in Park Lane? No! Then come home with me and have a bit o' pickled salmon and a glass of cold gin-and-water, and let's talk matters out."