“A queer customer,” said Bush.
“Not so queer when you come to know him,” said Hornblower.
The fire had warmed him by now, and there was a little colour in his cheeks.
“What do you do here?” asked Bush, curiosity finally overcoming his politeness.
“I play whist,” said Hornblower.
“Whist?”
All that Bush knew about whist was that it was a slow game favoured by intellectuals. When Bush gambled he preferred something with a greater element of chance and which did not make any demand on his thoughts.
“A good many men from the services drop in here for whist,” said Hornblower. “I’m always glad to make a fourth.”
“But I’d heard—”
Bush had heard of all sorts of other games being played in the Long Rooms: hazard, vingtetun, even roulette.