"As a boy, yes."
"Not since you were old enough to think it over?" said Anne eagerly.
"No. It seemed to me that the amount of genuine interest in the
sport and the animals was infinitesimal compared with the fictitious
excitement worked up by betting."
"And what's the harm of betting when you've got the money?"
"And when you haven't?"
"That's another question."
"Do you approve it at the best?"
"It's a man's own concern."
"That's arguing against your better sense."
"Can't be helped, with two such solemn companions! There would be
no bearing you if I didn't take you down sometimes, when you get so
didactic, and talk of fictitious excitement, indeed! And now you
are going to Rood House, what will you be coming back?"
Rood House stood about two miles on the further side of Backsworth.
It was an ancient almshouse, of which the mastership had been wisely
given to Dr. Easterby, one of the deepest theological scholars,
holiest men, and bravest champions of the Church, although he was
too frail in health to do much, save with his pen, and in council
with the numerous individuals who resorted to him from far and wide,
and felt the beautiful old fragment of a monastic building where he
dwelt a true court of peace and refreshment, whence they came forth,
aided by prayer and counsel, for their own share of the combat.
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