“I am very sorry,” answered Margaret very gravely, “but I warned Mr. North of what to expect.”
“Really, I think your playing is very good, Miss Ryerson,” interposed John, with equal gravity. “For my part, I am quite satisfied. And if you’re satisfied and I’m satisfied, where does Phil come in? Nowhere. Your lead, Mr. Markham.”
Now there was a bit of polite perjury that should have won the thanks and admiration of any one in Margaret’s place. Yet, for some reason, the effect on Margaret was quite the reverse of pleasing and did not soften her heart and move her to reform; on the contrary, she played worse than before and exasperated Phillip to fresh remonstrance.
“Margey! You did it again that hand!”
“Did what, Phil?”
“Why, trumped his ace!”
“Did I? Did I trump your ace, Mr. North?”
“I believe you did,” John answered calmly. “But I don’t think Phil understands your play.”
“No, hanged if I do!” muttered Phillip.