And I don't believe he forged that stiff, though all the evidence says so; Beauty hadn't a touch of the blackguard in him." With which declaration of his views, Kergenven lapsed into immutable silence and slumberous apathy, from whose shelter nothing could tempt him afresh; and the Colonel, with all the rest, lounged into the anteroom, where the tables were set, and began "plunging" in earnest at sums that might sound fabulous, were they written here.

The players staked heavily; but it was the gallery who watched around, making their bets, and backing their favorites, that lost on the whole the most.
"Horse Guards have heard of the plunging; think we're going too fast," murmured the Chief to Kergenven, his Major, who lifted his brows, and murmured back with the demureness of a maiden: "Tell 'em it's our only vice; we're models of propriety." Which possibly would not have been received with the belief desirable by the skeptics of Pall Mall.
So the De Profundis was said over Bertie Cecil; and "Beauty of the Brigades" ceased to be named in the service, and soon ceased to be even remembered.

In the steeple-chase of life there is no time to look back at the failures, who have gone down over a "double and drop," and fallen out of the pace..