Angus, and a writer, James Argyle, and little Algy Constable, and tiny Louis Mee, and deaf Walter Rosen. They all snapped and rattled at one another, and were rather spiteful but rather amusing. Francis and Angus had to leave early. They had another appointment. And James Argyle got quite tipsy, and said to Aaron:
"But, my boy, don't let yourself be led astray by the talk of such people as Algy. Beware of them, my boy, if you've a soul to save. If you've a soul to save!" And he swallowed the remains of his litre.
Algy's nose trembled a little, and his eyes blinked.
"And if you've a soul to lose," he said, "I would warn you very earnestly against Argyle." Whereupon Algy shut one eye and opened the other so wide, that Aaron was almost scared.
"Quite right, my boy. Ha! Ha! Never a truer thing said! Ha-ha-ha." Argyle laughed his Mephistophelian tipsy laugh. "They'll teach you to save. Never was such a lot of ripe old savers! Save their old trouser-buttons! Go to them if you want to learn to save. Oh, yes, I advise it seriously. You'll lose nothing—not even a reputation.—You may lose a soul, of course. But that's a detail, among such a hoard of banknotes and trouser-buttons. Ha-ha! What's a soul, to them—?"
"What is it to you, is perhaps the more pertinent question," said Algy, flapping his eyelids like some crazy owl. "It is you who specialise in the matter of soul, and we who are in need of enlightenment—"
"Yes, very true, you are! You are in need of enlightenment. A set of benighted wise virgins. Ha-ha-ha! That's good, that—benighted wise virgins! What—" Argyle put his red face near to Aaron's, and made a moue, narrowing his eyes quizzically as he peered up from under his level grey eyebrows. "Sit in the dark to save the lamp-oil—And all no good to them.—When the bridegroom cometh—! Ha-ha! Good that! Good, my boy!—The bridegroom—" he giggled to himself. "What about the bridegroom, Algy, my boy? Eh? What about him? Better trim your wick, old man, if it's not too late—"
