“Completely,” Richard replied, “and this time I cannot turn to my father for assistance. He swore to me when I went to him six months ago that he would never bail me out again and, as far as he was concerned, I could stay in the Fleet Prison until I rotted!”

“Strong words!” the Earl remarked, “but, of course, I will see that does not happen to you.”

“No, Vargus. It’s very decent of you to suggest it,” Richard protested, “but you know I swore when we first became friends that I would not sponge on you as three-quarters of your acquaintances manage to do and it’s a vow I intend to keep.”

“It is easy to be proud, if you can afford it,” the Earl said cynically.

“Well, I cannot afford it, but I am still proud.”

“In which case,” the Earl replied, “I hope you will find it edible. I have no wish ever again to be as hungry as we were sometimes with Wellington’s Army. I remember several occasions when I was so empty I would gladly have eaten my boots.”

“I am not likely to forget that,” Richard agreed. “But, if we start talking about the War, I shall forget everything else. Why are you back in London?”

The Earl hesitated and his friend looked at him in surprise.

Ever since they had served in the same Regiment they had been such close friends that Richard believed they had no secrets from each other.

When the War was over, they both turned spontaneously to the gaieties of London as a relief from the privations and discomforts they had suffered in Portugal and Spain.

Even so, when reminiscing, they had found it easier to remember the glory and triumph.

But Waterloo had not only brought the cessation of hostilities with the French, it had also brought young men back into civilian life with not enough to do except seek enjoyment.

This was not difficult in the case of the Earl, who was an exceedingly wealthy man, but dozens of his contemporaries like Richard Rowlands found themselves with a champagne taste, but unable to afford anything but homebrewed ale, unless they were prepared to run into debt.

The Prince Regent had set the fashion for extravagance and the amassing of pile upon pile of unpaid bills, which was being emulated in an alarming fashion by the friends he entertained at Carlton House.

When they were not there, they frequented the Clubs in St. James’s Street.

Here they would gamble with what ready money they could find and discuss the merits of the latest social ‘Incomparable and the fascination of the ‘Impures’, who were to be found in the theatres and the dancehalls at which they were always welcome.