Sinopsis

Long years have ed since last we met, And left their marks of teen and fret; No longer faces plump and smooth, Proclaim the halcyon days of youth. But haggard looks and tresses white Betray the ardour of the fight; The same old friends: we meet once more— But not the merry boys of yore. "It is a great mistake," said Sir Philip Cassim, looking doubtfully at the piece of paper lying on his desk; "then we were foolish boys, now we are—I trust sensible men. Certainly it is a great mistake." The piece of paper was yellow with age, a trifle grimy, and so worn with constant foldings, that it was wonderful the four quarters had not long since parted company, as had the four friends, each of whom carried a similar piece in his pocket-book.