“Have some more pieces this time,” said Poole.
“Nonsense!” was snapped out. “I tell you I can beat you this way, and I will.”
The third game was played, one which took three times as long as the last, and as he was beaten the middy let himself sink back on his pillow with a gesture full of impatience.
“Yes,” he said; “I know where I went wrong there. My head burns so, and I wasn’t thinking.”
“Yes, I saw where you made that slip. You might as well have given up at once.”
“Oh, might I?” was snapped out.
“Here, let me give that handkerchief a good soaking before we begin another.”
“Yes, you didn’t half wet it last time. Don’t wring it out so much.”
“All right. Why, it’s quite hot. It must have made your head so much the cooler. There, does that feel more comfortable?”