It will take more than I'm earning to fill it." He stood a moment, smiling, curious.

Then: "You've been as faithless a valet as any servant who ever watered wine, lost a gimcrack, or hooked a weed.

Studs, neckcloths, bootjacks, silk socks, pins, underwear--all magically and eventually faded from my wardrobe, wafted to those silent bournes of swag that valets wot of.

What in hell do you want to stay _here_ for now, you amusing wastrel ?" "Yes, sir.

I'd prefer to stay with you." "But there'll be no more pleasant pickings, my poor and faithless steward! If you should convert anything more to your own bank account I'll be obliged to stroll about naked." "Yes, sir," muttered Burgess; "I brought back some things last night--them socks, shirt-pins and studs, and the fob.