They might come and play with him whenever they liked, but they would get a licking, he said. He flattered himself he knew what he was talking about. And while he admitted that he was weak in geography, history, and the use of the globes, he was ready to bet his bottom dollar that he would hold his own at his own favorite game till the end of the chapter.
He grew excited and challenged them to bring to the Priory any British poker-player alive, and he would show him a thing or two he, the Britisher, didn’t know.
And so, good-humored to the end, but secure and confident in his victories, Denver saw the guests off, and stood at the Priory door waving his hand to the men whom he had made the victims of his skill.
Gerard and Arthur were among the last to leave, Arthur being unable to tear himself away from Cora’s side, and Gerard being very anxious, as he always was, for just a last word with Miss Davison.
When he got his opportunity, Gerard asked abruptly—
“Why did you pretend you’d never seen Mr. Jones before this evening?”
Miss Davison opened wide eyes of surprise.
“Really, Mr. Buckland, it’s very hard to have to say so, but don’t you think you are going a little too far? I don’t know what you mean.”
“You have met Mr. Cecil Jones before, but this evening you treated him as if he had been a complete stranger.”
A light came into her eyes.