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PinkMonkey.com-Nicholas Nickelby by Charles Dickens




930

degrees, he grew more angry, and was exasperated by jests and
familiarities which, a few hours before, would have been a source
of amusement to him. This did not serve him; for, at such
bantering or retort as suited the company, he was no match for Sir
Mulberry. Still, no violent rupture took place. They returned to
town; Messrs Pyke and Pluck and other gentlemen frequently
protesting, on the way thither, that Sir Mulberry had never been
in such tiptop spirits in all his life.

They dined together, sumptuously. The wine flowed freely, as
indeed it had done all day. Sir Mulberry drank to recompense
himself for his recent abstinence; the young lord, to drown his
indignation; and the remainder of the party, because the wine was
of the best and they had nothing to pay. It was nearly midnight
when they rushed out, wild, burning with wine, their blood
boiling, and their brains on fire, to the gaming-table.

Here, they encountered another party, mad like themselves.
The excitement of play, hot rooms, and glaring lights was not
calculated to allay the fever of the time. In that giddy whirl of noise
and confusion, the men were delirious. Who thought of money,
ruin, or the morrow, in the savage intoxication of the moment?
More wine was called for, glass after glass was drained, their
parched and scalding mouths were cracked with thirst. Down
poured the wine like oil on blazing fire. And still the riot went on.
The debauchery gained its height; glasses were dashed upon the
floor by hands that could not carry them to lips; oaths were
shouted out by lips which could scarcely form the words to vent
them in; drunken losers cursed and roared; some mounted on the
tables, waving bottles above their heads and bidding defiance to
the rest; some danced, some sang, some tore the cards and raved.


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PinkMonkey.com-Nicholas Nickelby by Charles Dickens



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