“You are difficult tonight,” he said. “Now I must have a whiskey and soda.”
The art of losing gracefully never forsook him.
Stellan leant back in his chair and puffed hard at his torn cigarette. He felt his winnings like a cool shiver in his limbs.
Levy was still standing beside him with a pale smile:
“Shall we two play a little?”
“I am rather tired.”
Levy raised his voice so that he should be heard all over the room:
“Are you so anxious to keep your winnings?”
Stellan grew pale with anger and had a sharp answer ready, but then it struck him that he might just as well be engaged when Manne came back for his revenge. He forced himself to a polite gesture towards the empty chair and Levy sat down.
They continued with écarté and, against Stellan’s wish, the stakes were high. This was something so unusual for Levy that everybody gathered around them.