Mr. Marchdale threw down his cards pettishly and swore, Lord Alvaston, sprawling in his chair, surveyed his slender legs with drowsy approval, the Marquis of Alton yawned and Mr. Dalroyd shuffled for a new deal; hard by the Captain and Sir Jasper diced sleepily and in the ingle Sir Benjamin snored outright.
"Sink me!" murmured Lord Alvaston, "sink me if I've touched an ace all the evening!"
"Aye, Dalroyd and Alton have all the luck!" exclaimed Mr. Marchdale with youthful petulance.
"Dem'd queer thing, but I feel dooced sleepy!" yawned the Marquis.
"'S'ffect o' country air," murmured Lord Alvaston, "look at Ben."
"Aye begad, will some one be good enough to stir him up, his dem'd snoring makes me worse——"
"Who's snoring?" demanded Sir Benjamin, sitting bolt upright, broad awake in a moment, and straightening his wig. "Od's body, I do protest I did but close my eyes for a moment——"
"And snored, Ben, damnably—'ffect o' country air——"
"And churning, Ben—eh, Benjamin?" suggested Mr. Dalroyd. "You've taken up dairy-work, I understand."
Sir Benjamin reached for and filled his wine-glass and grew a little more rubicund than usual.