WYLDER'S HAJVV.
33
and made my criticisms — not very novel, I fear—upon
the pages he turned over; and I am sorry to say I don't
think he heard much of what I was saying, for he sudden-
ly came out with —
"And where is Stanley Lake now, do you know?"
"I saw him in town — only for a moment though —
about a fortnight ago; he was arranging, he said, about
selling out."
"Oh! retiring; and what does he propose doing
then?" asked Wylder, without raising his eyes from his
book. He spoke in a sort of undertone, like a man who
does not want to be overheard.
"I have not an idea. I don't think he's fit for many
things. He knows something of horses, I believe, and
something of play."
"But he'll hardly make out a living that way," said
Wylder, with a sort of sneer or laugh.
"I fancy he has enough to live upon, without adding
to it, however," I said.
Wylder leaned back in his low chair, with his hands
Btuffed in his pockets, and the air of a man trying to look
unconcerned, but both annoyed and disconcerted neverthe-
less.
"I tell you what, Charlie, between you and me, that
fellow, Stanley, is a d—d bad lot. I may be mistaken,
of course; he's always been very civil to me. but we don't
like one another; and I don't think I ever heard him say
a good word of any one; I dare say he abuses you and
me, as he does every one else."
"Does he?" I said. "I was not aware he had that
failing."
"Oh, yes. He does not stick at trifles, Master Stanley.
He's about the greatest liar, I think, I ever met with,'
and he laughed angrily.
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