“Well, I haven’t come to that yet,” Mrs. Brent retorted. “And I prefer to keep what nerves I have, rather than wreck them further with drugs. One can always stand a thing if one makes up one’s mind to it.”
“One thing I won’t stand,” said Mrs. Dangerfield, “and that’s the heat in this room. Let’s go outside and see if we can’t find a cooler spot to sit.”
The doctor rose and followed her as she crossed the room; but Mrs. Brent seemed to reject the idea. She remained in her chair and Wraxall, after rising, sat down again. For a time Mrs. Brent remained silent, gazing out at the inky sky; but at last she turned to the American.
“Well, Mr. Wraxall,” she demanded in a low voice which could not reach the bridge players. “Are you still confident of getting what you want?”
The American’s face betrayed nothing of his thoughts.
“I couldn’t say. No, it’s too early yet to say. I’ll admit that it’s a stiffer thing than I expected. It’s certainly stiffer than I supposed. But I haven’t tried to get it yet. I think I’ll wait till I have tried, before I say what I think. But I thank you for what you told me. I take that kindly of you. If you’d said nothing I’d have made a mistake, likely enough. I hadn’t quite a grip of the situation; I’ll say that frankly.”
Mrs. Brent scanned his imperturbable features for a moment and then changed the subject.
“Rather a contrast between those two bridge-tables over there. Mrs. Tuxford plays well; but she kept the stakes down. The play at the other table seems to me little better than gambling. I’ve heard ‘Re-double’ twice in the last round or two; and Miss Cressage isn’t half as good at bridge as Mrs. Tuxford.”
Wraxall looked at her with a faint admiration showing on his face.
“You don’t miss much, Mrs. Brent. That’s a fact. I’ve been watching them play, but it hadn’t struck me. You’re quite right. But I suppose they can stand it.”