"So you're actually going to fight it out," he said, grinning. "Well,
the odds are in your favor. You are two to my one."

"I think it's pretty even," I retorted. "We will be hindered, so to
speak, by having certain principles of honor and honesty. You have no
handicap."

He tried to think of a retort, and not finding one he slammed out of the
spring-house in a rage.

Mr. Van Alstyne and his wife came in that same day, just before dinner,
and we played three-handed bridge for half an hour. As I've said, they'd
been on their honeymoon, and they were both sulky at having to stay at
the Springs. It was particularly hard on Mrs. Van Alstyne, because, with
seven trunks of trousseau with her, she had to put on black. But she
used to shut herself up in her room in the evenings and deck out for Mr.
Sam in her best things. We found it out one evening when Mrs. Biggs set
fire to her bureau cover with her alcohol curling-iron heater, and Mrs.
Sam, who had been going around in a black crepe dress all day, rushed
out in pink satin with crystal trimming, and slippers with cut-glass
heels.

After the first rubber Mrs. Van Alstyne threw her cards on the floor and
said another day like this would finish her.

"Surely Dick is able to come now," she said, like a peevish child.
"Didn't he say the swelling was all gone?"

"Do you expect me to pick up those cards?" Mr. Sam asked angrily,
looking at her.