'Come, doctor!' he said.

'You know something! What is it ?' 'I know that it is town talk that you lost seven thousand last season; and God knows how many thousands in the three seasons before it!' 'Well, one must live,' Sir George answered lightly.
'But not at that rate.' 'In that state of life, doctor, into which God has been pleased--you know the rest.' 'In that state of life into which the devil!' retorted the doctor with heat.' If I thought that my boy would ever grow up to do nothing better than--than--but there, forgive me.

I grow warm when I think of the old trees, and the old pictures, and the old Halls that you fine gentlemen at White's squander in a night! Why, I know of a little place in Oxfordshire, which, were it mine by inheritance--as it is my brother's--I would not stake against a Canons or a Petworth!' 'And Stavordale would stake it against a bootjack--rather than not play at all!' Sir George answered complacently.
'The more fool he!' snapped the doctor.
'So I think.' 'Eh ?' 'So I think,' Sir George answered coolly.

'But one must be in the fashion, doctor.' 'One must be in the Fleet!' the doctor retorted.

'To be in the fashion you'll ruin yourself! If you have not done it already,' he continued with something like a groan.