“Pass,” said Violet.
“Hurrah! I knew it would make you pessimistic to be called like a tobacconist’s....”
Philip Yardley laid down his cards and actually laughed. “Colin, you low, vulgar brute,” he said, “don’t talk so much!”
Colin imitated Raymond’s voice and manner to perfection. “I should have said just the opposite,” he remarked. “I should have thought you wanted me to talk more, and make trumps.”
Violet caught on. “Oh, you got him exactly, Colin,” she said. “What did he say that about?”
“Go on, Colin,” said his father. “We shall never finish.”
Colin examined his hand. “Three no-trumps,” he said. “Not one, nor two, but three. Glorious trinity!”
There was no counter-challenge, and as Lord Yardley considered his lead, Colin looked up through the vase of flowers once more. There was some one there still, and he got up to fetch a match from a side-table. That gave him a clearer view of what lay beyond.
“Hullo, Raymond?” he said. “Thought you’d gone to the smoking-room.”
“No; just looking at the paper,” said Raymond. “I’m going now.”