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Updated: May 23, 2025
"Do they say there is no chance?" "They haven't said that, Mrs. Malcourt. I think " "Please, Mr. Portlaw!" "Yes, madam!" "Will you listen very carefully, please?" "Certainly " "Mr. Malcourt and I are leaving on the 10.20. You will please consult your time-table and keep us informed at the following stations have you a pencil to write them down?... Are you ready now?
"Perhaps you have; there are all kinds at Palm Beach, even yours, and," he added with his easy impudence, "I expect to preserve my notions concerning every one of them. Ho! Look at that sheaf of sky-rockets, Billy! Zip! Whir-r! Bang! Great is Diana of the Ephesians! bless her heart!" "Going up like Garret Hamil's illusions," said Portlaw, sentimentally.
"We've just three now for 'Preference, and if you go kiting off to town Hamil and I will be forced into double dummy, and that's a horrible mental strain on a man isn't it, Hamil?" "I could use the long-distance telephone," said Malcourt pensively. "Well, for the love of Mike go and do it!" shouted Portlaw, "and let me try to enjoy this Andelys cheese."
Now he halted, dark eyes roving about the room. They fell and lingered on a card-table where some empty glasses decorated the green baize top. "Bridge?" he queried. "Unfortunately," growled Portlaw. "Who?" "Mrs. Malcourt and I versus your ah talented family." "Mrs. Malcourt doesn't gamble." "Tressilvain and I did." "Were you badly stung, dear friend?" Portlaw muttered.
Hamil had not even heard him. He was busy very busy with a letter dozens of sheets of a single letter, closely written, smeared in places the letter that had come at last! In the fading light he bent low over the pages. Later a servant lighted the lamps; later still Portlaw went into the library, drew out a book bound in crushed levant, pushed an electric button, and sat down.
He met Portlaw, later, at the Beach Club for luncheon; and, as the latter looked particularly fat, warm, and worried, Malcourt's perverse humour remained in the ascendant, and he tormented Portlaw until that badgered gentleman emitted a bellow of exasperation. "What on earth's the matter?" asked Malcourt in pretended astonishment. "I thought I was being funny." "Funny!
He walked over to the table, took a cigarette and lighted it, then stood regarding the burning match in his fingers. "She's the last of the family; I'll probably never see her again " "She appears to be in excellent health," remarked Portlaw viciously. "So am I; but " He shrugged and tossed the embers of the match onto the hearth. "But what?"
"Yes, and yonder's my cottage on Luckless Lake a nice name," added Malcourt, "but Portlaw says it's safer to leave the name as it stands than to provoke the gods with boastful optimism by changing it to Lucky Lake.
And a moment later the gig shot away into the star-set darkness. From the bridge Wayward wearily watched it through his night glasses; Malcourt, slim and graceful, sat on the rail and looked out into the Southern dusk, an unlighted cigarette between his lips. "That kills our four at Bridge," grumbled Portlaw, leaning heavily beside him.
It's natural only natural to make some provision. Good-night, Helen! Good-night, Herby. Portlaw and I will take you on at Bridge if it rains to-morrow. It will be a privilege for us to ah watch your game closely. Good-night!" And closed the door. "What the devil does he mean?" demanded Tressilvain, peering sideways at his wife. "I don't exactly know," she said thoughtfully, sorting the cards.
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