“I much prefer hearts to clubs, for a steady trump,” I remarked.
“You play billiards, I presume?”
“Yes,” I innocently replied.
“What’s your average run?”
It was a tempting bait she shoved under my nose, but I realised the trap; and was too wary to be caught. “Oh, four, when I’m in good form.”
“Really?”
“Really.” I did not choose to add that I was talking of the balk-line game, not caring to be too technical with a woman.
“That’s very curious!” she exclaimed.
“I suppose some devoted friend of mine has told you I’m only a billiard-marker?” I inquired.
“No—but—”