There was no light in the dining-room, so she went up on to the piazza, and looked into the library window, for there was a blaze of light coming from there.
And there they all were, sitting about a table, playing cards. Unconsciously, involuntarily, her eyes sought and rested upon Vincent first of all. He sat in profile toward her, just the same as ever, handsome, bold, with his look of vigour and zest. All that had happened was nothing but an episode to him; hadn’t even ruffled him. She couldn’t bear to look at him any more.
Opposite him sat the doctor; facing the window, Mrs. Russell, and, with his back to Angelica, a strange young man in a tweed suit very much too big for him. Wasn’t it a suit Vincent used to wear?
"Now who’s that?" she wondered.
Suddenly Mrs. Russell flung down her cards with a slap.
"Oh, you chump!" she cried. "It’s no use. You’ll never be any good!"
An aggrieved voice, which Angelica recognized at once, answered:
"Well, what of it? I never said I wanted to play, did I? You said I had to learn, to make it four. Well, then, I can’t, and that’s all there is to it!"
"Courtland in there, playing cards with them!" thought Angelica. "What would Eddie say?"
The doctor got up and stretched.