Raymond thought himself into a tangle and found a spirit of great depression settling upon him.  But, at last, he decided to sleep on the situation.  He did not go home, but turned his steps to ‘The Tiger,’ ate his luncheon and drank heartily with it.

Then he went to see a boxer, who was training with Mr. Gurd, and presently when Neddy Motyer appeared, he turned into the billiard room and there killed some hours before the time of the smoking concert.

He imbibed the intensely male atmosphere of ‘The Tiger’ with a good deal of satisfaction; but surging up into the forefront of his mind came every moment the truth concerning himself and his future.  It made him bitter.  For some reason he could not guess, he found himself playing billiards very much above his form.  Neddy was full of admiration.

“By Jove, you’ve come on thirty in a hundred,” he said.  “If you only gave a fair amount of time to it, you’d soon beat anybody here but Waldron.”

“My sporting days are practically over,” answered Raymond.  “I’ve got to face real life now, and as soon as you begin to do that, you find sport sinks under the horizon a bit.  I thought I should miss it a lot, but I shan’t.”

“If anybody else said that, I should think it was the fox who had lost his brush talking,” replied Neddy; “but I suppose you mean it.  Only you’ll find, if you chuck sport, you’ll soon be no good.  Even as it is, going into the works has put you back a lot.  I doubt if you could do a hundred in eleven seconds now.”

“There are more important things than doing a hundred in eleven seconds—­or even time, either, for that matter.”

“You won’t chuck football, anyway?  You’ll be fast enough for outside right for year’s yet if you watch yourself.”

“Damned easy to say ‘watch yourself.’  Yes, I shall play footer a bit longer if they want me, I suppose.”

Arthur Waldron dropped in a few minutes later.

He was glad to see Raymond.

“Good,” he said.  “I thought you were putting in a blameless evening with your people.”

“No, I’m putting in a blameless evening here.”

“He’s playing enormous billiards, Waldron,” declared Motyer.  “I suppose you’ve been keeping him at it.  He’s come on miles.”

“He didn’t learn with me, anyway.  It’s not once in a blue moon that he plays at North Hill.  But if he’s come on, so much the better.”

They played, but Raymond’s form had deserted him.  Waldron was much better than the average amateur and now he gave Raymond fifty in two hundred and beat him by as much.  They dined together presently, and Job Legg, who often lent a hand at ‘The Tiger’ on moments of extra pressure, waited upon them.

“How’s your uncle, Job?” asked Arthur Waldron, who was familiar with Mr. Legg, and not seldom visited ‘The Seven Stars,’ when Estelle came with him to Bridport.

“He’s a goner, sir.  I’m off to the funeral on Monday.”