Hawkesbury used the interval in conversing amiably with me in a whisper.
"I'm afraid Doubleday's put out," said he.

"You know, he's a very good sort of fellow; but, between you and me, don't you think he's a trifle too unsteady ?" What could I say?
I certainly could not call Doubleday steady, as a rule, and yet I disliked to have to assent to Hawkesbury's question.
"He's very steady in business," I said.
"Yes; but at other times I'm afraid he's not," said Hawkesbury.

"Not that I'm blaming him.

But of course, when a fellow's extravagant, and all that, it _is_ a temptation, isn't it ?" "Do you mean a temptation to be dishonest ?" "Well, it's rather a strong way of putting it.

I don't suppose for a moment Doubleday is not perfectly trustworthy; no more does my uncle." "I should think not," said I, rather warmly.
"Of course not," said he, sweetly; "but you know, Batchelor, prevention is better than cure, and it seems the kindest thing, doesn't it, to put temptation quite out of a fellow's reach when one can ?" "But," observed I, "it seems to me you are taking it out of Doubleday's reach and putting it into your own." For an instant a shade of vexation crossed his face, but directly afterwards he laughed again in his usual amused manner.
"You forget," said he, "I live at home, and haven't the chance of following Doubleday's example, even if I wished to.