"I hate to play with either of those Hartwells—they simply blow your head off after every hand; they haven't any manners!" put in a blond in a creation of blue chiffon and silver.
"That girl in white over there ought to be ruled out!" said another guest. "She is that artist visiting the Hollingsworths. She made it hearts when I played with her once, 'so to lose as little as possible,' she said."
The calling of the game cut short further comments.
The company was seated, the hands dealt, and the great bridge party was at last really under way.
"Are they starting? I hope people won't talk—I don't think it's fair. Is it my make? I haven't a thing! I'll pass it. Clubs! Heavens! I could have done better than that myself! What on earth did you have in your hand? I don't care what Elwell says—I don't think that's enough; of course we couldn't make it on that hand! It seems a shame to throw points away. I am not angry—do you think I mind a few dollars? it's only so unnecessary! How many hands do we have to play with each partner? I never said I wanted to get rid of you. No, it's not the same thing—I simply asked!"
So the game went on!
Flushed cheeks and glistening eyes were the only indications that much was at stake; social veneer concealed the real anxiety of the players, but a hush of nervous tension pervaded the room. It was a relief when the last hand was concluded. Everyone crowded around the table where the beautiful prizes were displayed and where the scores were read.
"You don't mean to tell me that that girl who came with the Hollingsworths and can't play at all, has first choice!" whispered Mrs. Norman.
"A case of fool's luck, I guess," replied Mrs. Danielson, "let's see what she takes."
"Look! She's going to take that Tiffany glass vase when she might have had that diamond bracelet—probably thinks they are rhinestones!" burst out Elise Thayer.