"Are you sure you know how to play this game?"
There was a sort of finality in her words that sickened me.
"I have abided always by the rules," I answered doggedly, "and I do know the rules. Look—this game is neatly blocked by one little four-spot on that queen. If that queen were free, I could finish everything."
"Oh, oh—I've told you it's a stupid game with stupid rules—and it makes its players—" She did not complete that, but went about on another tack—with the danger note in her voice. "Just now I overheard your caller say a thing—"
"Ah, I feared you overheard."
The arrogance of the gesture with which she interrupted me was splendid.
"He said, 'How long are you going to keep up that—that—'"
"That will do," I said severely. "Remember there is a gentleman present." But my voice sounded queerly indeed to the ears most familiar with its quality. Also it trembled, for her gaze, almost stern in its questioning, had not released me.
"But how long are you?" Her own voice had trembled, as mine did. She might as well have used the avoided word. Her tone carried it far too intelligibly. It was quite as bad as swearing. I tried twice before I succeeded in finding my voice.
"I've told you," I said desperately; "can't you see—that queen isn't free?"