“Frightful. It’s the storm, I think.”
“I judged so from your eyes. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go off and leave you. You won’t be anxious to talk when you feel that way.”
Mrs. Brent gloomily acquiesced. Wraxall rose from his chair and left the room. As soon as he had gone she turned again slightly and resumed her study of Eileen Cressage’s face. The girl was evidently slipping into desperation; and her play had degenerated into mere gambling on long chances. Once or twice she won heavily; but the run of luck was persistently against her. Mrs. Brent shifted her attention to Eric Dangerfield’s face; and from it she could learn that he was growing uneasy. Once or twice he endeavoured to take the play out of his partner’s hands; but he had nothing like the skill of Conway Westenhanger. More often than not, his attempts at rescue ended in worse disaster. Occasionally he glanced at the score and knitted his brows; but his play continued steady. He had not lost his nerve, like the girl.
After a final disastrous round, the bridge-party completed the rubber and came to a close. Mrs. Brent saw Eileen Cressage lean over and watch Morchard as he added up the long array of figures; and the girl’s perturbation at the sight of the scoring-block was written plainly in her face. Morchard was slow in arithmetic; and as he laboriously totted up column after column, the distress deepened and the girl went whiter. At last he jotted down the total and worked out the cash equivalent.
“That’s—let’s see—two hundred and six pounds eighteen, isn’t it?” he said, putting down the scoring-block and pencil.
“What did you say? I didn’t quite catch,” said Eileen. Two hundred pounds! She knew they had been losing steadily; but this was far beyond her worst anticipations. She couldn’t possibly pay that, even if she were given a year to do it. What had persuaded her to play at all? She felt her throat dry and mechanically moistened her lips.
“Two hundred and six pounds eighteen, I make it,” repeated Morchard. “Not bad, partner.”
Mrs. Caistor Scorton glanced keenly at the girl’s face.
“Well!” she said, shortly, pushing her chair back slightly as though to show that the time had come to settle.
Eileen pulled herself together with an effort.