"I don't think," Engleton said slowly, "that I care about playing any more--just
The Princess yawned as she leaned back in her chair. Both Forrest and De la
Borne, who had left his place to turn up one of the lamps, glanced stealthily
"I am not keen about it myself," Forrest said smoothly. "After all, though, it's only
three o'clock."
Cecil's fingers shook, so that his tinkering with the lamp failed, and the room was
left almost in darkness. Forrest, glad of an excuse to leave his place, went to the
great north window and pulled up the blind. A faint stream of grey light stole into
the room. The Princess shrieked, and covered her face with her hands.
"For Heaven's sake, Nigel," she cried, "pull that blind down! I do not care for
these Rembrandtesque effects. Tobacco ash and cards and my complexion do
not look at their best in such a crude light."
Forrest obeyed, and the room for a moment was in darkness. There was a
somewhat curious silence. The Princess was breathing softly but quickly. When
at last the lamp burned up again, every one glanced furtively toward the young
man who was leaning back in his chair with his eyes fixed absently upon the
"Well, what is it to be?" Forrest asked, reseating himself. "One more rubber or
"I've lost a good deal more than I care to," Cecil remarked in a somewhat
unnatural tone, "but I say another brandy and soda, and one more rubber. There
are some sandwiches behind you, Engleton."
