"I suppose you preached your miserable Crusade, as you call it?" said
Constantine Blair. They were at dinner at Marchmont's, Morewood and the
Dean also being of the company.
"I did, and without it I should have got a worse thrashing," said Dick
stoutly; it would be unkind to scrutinise too closely the sincerity of
this statement.
"Quisante had the sense to throw it over," growled Constantine; his
equanimity was not up to its usual standard.
"It's wisdom to lighten the ship in a storm," smiled Marchmont.
"Yes, and to jettison other people's heavy luggage first," said Morewood.
"The duty of a captain, I suppose," murmured the Dean with a smile.
"You needn't begin with your best guns," argued Dick, a little hotly.
"We can't let Dick appropriate our metaphor to his own purposes," said
Marchmont. "As a matter of fact now, had the Crusade much to do with it?"
Morewood interposed before Dick could answer.
"Oh, only as a Crusade. 'Causes' of any kind are properly suspected,"
said he. "For my part I should imitate the noble simplicity of municipal
election bills.
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