"Were you thinking of Archie's century or John's bowling?"
"Neither, oddly enough. I was recalling my own catch which won the match. Poetry; let's go and tell Simpson."
"It was a skier," said Myra. "I thought it was never coming down. What did you think of all the time?"
"Everything. All my past life flashed before my eyes. I saw again my happy childhood's days, when I played innocently in the—er—pantry. I saw myself at school, sl—working. I saw——"
"Did you happen," interrupted Thomas, when we both thought he was fast asleep, "to see yourself being badly taken on by me at billiards?"
"Thomas, you're not properly awake, old friend. I know that feeling. Turn over on the other side and take a deep breath."
Thomas rose and stretched himself, and went over to the cue rack. "You should have heard him siding about his blessed billiards this morning," he told Myra.
"I didn't side. I simply said that anybody could beat Thomas. Do they play billiards much at the Admiralty? I should have thought the motion——"
"Take a cue. Myra will mark."
"Rather; I can mark like anything."