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CHAPTER XVII ST. QUENTIN’S STORY
St. Quentin looked at Sydney’s earnest face in silence for a moment, then spoke abruptly:
“Sit down. I’ve a good mind to tell you a story which will make you understand—well, a good many things—among others what a contemptible cad I really am. It isn’t a particularly pretty story, but you may as well know all about it.”
“I don’t believe one word Sir Algernon said about you,” she answered, flushing. “Don’t tell me anything, St. Quentin. I don’t want to hear!”
“A part of what he said was true, none the less,” he answered steadily. “Listen. You know Bridge is five or six years my senior, and he patronised me when I was a little chap in turn-down collars at Eton. Of course he left years before I did; but when I went into the Guards he was a captain in my regiment,
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 and the old intimacy grew up again. I was a young fool and flattered by the friendship, as I thought it, of a man who had seen the world. Well, luckily you’ve had no chance of knowing what fools youngsters in the Guards can make of themselves!
“My father paid my debts again and again, until he grew sick of it, and said I must resign my commission: he couldn’t stand any more.
“I was sobered by that, for my father and mother were awfully cut up about it, and I knew they had treated me far better than ever I deserved. I did try to pull up then, and pretty soon—no, don’t stir the fire, I like the dark—I got to know a girl ... it doesn’t matter who, except that she was a great deal too good for me.... She was interested in the cottages, like you are, Sydney. You remind me of her now and then, and she was just eighteen when first I knew her, nine years ago.
“Well, my extravagance had crippled my father, and he couldn’t do half he wanted for his cottages. She minded that a good deal, I remember. I felt quite certain that if she would only be engaged to me, I should find it impossible to be reckless or extravagant
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 again; but her father wouldn’t hear of an engagement then, and even she said I must give proof of being trustworthy.
“It was at this time, when I was half maddened by the constant restrictions laid upon our intercourse, that I chanced on Bridge again. We had never quite dropped each other; and when he left the Guards and went into a regiment of Dragoons which was quartered at Donisbro’ he came and looked me up at St. Quentin. We saw a lot of each other, and I introduced him at the——to the girl’s father, and he went to the house a good deal. She never liked him much, though, I fancy.... I was sick to death of home and a quiet life and trying to take an interest in the estate and tenants, as my father wished, and was ready enough to join in the diversions of the officers. There wasn’t much harm in that—they were mostly a good set, but it was a rich regiment, and I found the money going faster than I liked.
“I had always been noted in the Guards for my horses—so was Bridge. I know we got talking horses one day, and bets passed about the respective mettle of my favourite, Bridge’s, and another chap’s—young Gibbs, who also fancied himself as a judge of horse-flesh.
[200]
 Somehow a race was arranged, and we got our jockeys and each put a horse in training.
“I was mad, I think, for I took enormous bets on my MacIvor beating the other two hollow. I somehow felt that I must win, and then you see I could have recouped myself for my losses at cards, and started fair again; at least I thought I could—that sort of fair start isn’t worth much, really. The only kind of fair start that is any good is to set your face against temptation: that’s the kind she wanted.
“My people were at Nice just then. My mother had been ill. If they had been at home I could hardly have gone so far. But I was pretty desperate, and everybody knew it. That made things look all the blacker for me later on.... Two days before the race I got thrown, and broke my right arm. I was cut about the head too, and Lorry kept me in bed, though I was wild to be up and doing. Then, as I couldn’t go to the race, I did the idiotic act which ruined me, though I didn’t really get much worse than I deserved. I wrote to my jockey Duncombe, urging him to win the race at all costs, and promising him a heavy sum extra to his pay i............
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