“How nice!” cried Grizel with a gush. “I adore cakes. I’ll join certainly, if you’ll promise I need never play. It bores me so to run about after balls. I never can catch them, and I don’t want to, so why should I try? Really”—she dropped her chin sententiously—“it’s a waste of time!”
The Vicar’s wife saw her opportunity, and grasped it.
“I agree with you, Mrs Beverley. The tendency of the age is to spend far too much time over games. My husband considers that it is a national danger. There are so many other things better worth doing!”
“Oh, yes,” cried Grizel promptly. “There’s bridge.” The strain of the conversation was beginning to tell, and she told herself impatiently that she would not be “preached.”
“Bridge is so comfy; you can sit still, and have a cushion to your back, and smoke, and talk between the deals. It’s quite a good way of getting through the afternoon. What stakes do you play for here?”
The women in the company who played for money looked at the Vicar’s wife and were silent. Those who did not, felt virtuous, and looked it.
“At our house we make a point of playing for love,” Mrs Ritchards announced. “My husband disapproves of anything in the nature of gambling. Of course, when one has young people coming in and out, there is a responsibility. Personally I should object very strongly to taking another person’s money. Don’t you feel an awkwardness, Mrs Beverley—from your own guests?”
“Not a bit. I love it!” declared Grizel naughtily. “But I hate to lose. I hope someone will be wicked enough to play for money with me. I suppose there are some wicked people in the neighbourhood?”
“They do at the Court. I go up there sometimes. Lady Cassandra loves bridge,” Teresa said with a pride which overcame shyness. Was she not the only girl in Chumley who could boast of anything like intimacy with the big house? She watched her hostess’ face for a brightening of interest, and felt aggrieved when it failed to appear.
“That’s good. I’m glad there’s someone. I must ask her about it,” said Grizel nonchalantly, taking a future acquaintance for granted with a calmness which at once irritated and impressed her hearer. At the bottom of her heart Teresa felt the birth of a jealous dread; and found herself hoping that Cassandra would not call, would at any rate delay doing so for months to come, as was her custom with Chumley acquaintances. And then once again the door was thrown open, and with an accent of satisfaction the parlourmaid announced—Lady Cassandra Raynor.