"
"Well, we'll see," said Sir Tancred. "We're partners." And the game
went on.
Next morning he asked Tinker if he would like to go to the south of
France, or stay and be hardened. Tinker thought a while, made up his
mind that his father would like to go to the South of France, and said,
"I think I'm hard enough, sir,--to go on with. Besides,
"When the wind is in the East
It's neither fit for man nor beast.
In fact it shrivels me up. I should like some sunshine."
"Then we will go," said Sir Tancred.
Accordingly, the middle of the next week found them lodged at the Hotel
des Princes, Monte Carlo, enjoying the nourishing sunshine of the
Riviera. At least Tinker was enjoying it; the demands of a system
required his father and Lord Crosland to spend most of their day in the
darker, though hardly cooler air of the Temple of Fortune. But the
system went well, and they did not repine.
The first time he dined in the restaurant of the hotel, Sir Tancred was
disagreeably surprised to see sitting at a neighbouring table his
loathed uncle, Sir Everard Wigram. They had met now and again during
the past nine years; but as such a meeting had always resulted in some
severe wound to the Baronet's dignity, he shunned his nephew like the
pest, and abused him from a distance.
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