He dealt out the cards, but a trace of bewildered irritation crept into his eyes as the game proceeded, and once or twice he appeared to check an exclamation of astonishment, while at last he glanced reproachfully at Winston.
"My dear sir! Still, you have ridden a long way," he said, laying his finger on a king.
Winston laughed to hide his dismay. "I am sorry, sir. It was scarcely fair to my partner. You would, however, have beaten us, any way."
Barrington gravely gathered up the cards. "We will," he said, "have some music. I do not play poker."
Then, for the first time, Winston lost his head in his anger. "Nor do I, sir."
Barrington only looked at him, but the farmer felt as though somebody had struck him in the face, and, as soon as he conveniently could, bade Miss Barrington good-night.
"But we expected you would stay here a day or two. Your place is not ready," she said.
Winston smiled at her. "I think I am wise. I must feel my way."
Miss Barrington was won, and, making no further protest, signed to Dane. "You will take Mr. Courthorne home with you," she said. "I would have kept him here, but he is evidently anxious to talk over affairs with some one more of his age than my brother is."
Dane appeared quite willing, and, an hour later, Winston sat, cigar in hand, in a room of his outlying farm. It was furnished simply, but there were signs of taste, and the farmer who occupied it had already formed a good opinion of the man whose knowledge of his own profession astonished him.