I remember that week so well! It
was the close of such a May as we had never had since, and I was too
miserable even to follow the heavy scoring in the papers. Raffles
was the only man who could get a wicket up at Lord's, and I never
once went to see him play. Against Yorkshire, however, he helped
himself to a hundred runs as well; and that brought Raffles round
to me, on his way home to the Albany.
"We must dine and celebrate the rare event," said he. "A century
takes it out of one at my time of life; and you, Bunny, you look
quite as much in need of your end of a worthy bottle. Suppose we
make it the Caf‚ Royal, and eight sharp? I'll be there first to fix
up the table and the wine."
And at the Caf‚ Royal I incontinently told him of the trouble I was
in. It was the first he had ever heard of my affair, and I told
him all, though not before our bottle had been succeeded by a pint
of the same exemplary brand. Raffles heard me out with grave
attention. His sympathy was the more grateful for the tactful
brevity with which it was indicated rather than expressed.
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