"Never mind, dear boy; it's always a mistake to win early in the evening," said Carew. "There's plenty of time. I pass!"
"Pass," said the "Duchess."
Mary called three, and made them.
"How do you stand, Mrs. Carew?" asked Bowman.
"I'm just about the same as when we began. Tony, Mr. Bowman has nothing to drink.—Oh, what a shame, Dolliver!—thanks! Fill up your own, won't you?—He's a perfect martyr, this boy," she went on; "he cleared the table before you two people came in—didn't you?"
"Four!" cried Dolliver. "Yes; I cleared it beautifully. Utility is my line of business."
"Since when? I thought just now——"
"Oh, confidences, Mrs. Carew!" He turned scarlet. "Don't give me away!... Now, Mrs. Bowman, which is it to be?"
She played trumps, and led with a king.
A breathless moment, crowned by an unsuspected "little one" from Dolliver. His "four" were safe, and he leant back radiant.