They could have smoked in their own rooms as well, and have drunk gin and water there, if they had any real predilection for that mixture.

Mrs.
Davis was neither young nor beautiful, nor more than ordinarily witty.

Charley, it is true, had an allurement to entice him thither, but this could not be said of Scatterall, to whom the lovely Norah was never more than decently civil.

Had they been desired, in their own paternal halls, to sit and see their mother's housekeeper darn the family stockings, they would, probably, both of them have rebelled, even though the supply of tobacco and gin and water should be gratuitous and unlimited.
It must be presumed that the only charm of the pursuit was in its acknowledged impropriety.

They both understood that there was something fast in frequenting Mrs.Davis's inner parlour, something slow in remaining at home; and so they both sat there, and Mrs.Davis went on with her darning-needle, nothing abashed.
'Well, I think I shall go,' said Scatterall, shaking off the last ash from the end of his third cigar.
'Do,' said Charley; 'you should be careful, you know; late hours will hurt your complexion.' 'It's so deuced dull,' said Scatterall.
'Why don't you go into the parlour, and have a chat with the gentlemen ?' suggested Mrs.Davis; 'there's Mr.Peppermint there now, lecturing about the war; upon my word he talks very well.' 'He's so deuced low,' said Scatterall.
'He's a bumptious noisy blackguard too,' said Charley; 'he doesn't know how to speak to a gentleman, when he meets one.' Scatterall gave a great yawn.