"I should be delighted," said Honora, somewhat weakly. An impulse made
her glance toward the veranda, and for a fraction of a second she caught
the eye of Lily Dallam, who turned again to Mrs. Chandos.

"I say," said Mr. Cuthbert, "I don't play--but I hope I may come along."

"And me too," chimed in Mr. Wing.

Honora, not free from a certain uneasiness of conscience, led the way to
the Brackens, flanked by Mr. Grainger and Mr. Cuthbert. Her frame of mind
was not an ideal one for a hostess; she was put out with Trixton Brent,
and she could not help wondering whether these people would have made
themselves so free with another house. When tea was over, however, and
the bridge had begun, her spirits rose; or rather, a new and strange
excitement took possession of her that was not wholly due to the novel
and revolutionary experience of playing, for money--and winning. Her star
being in the ascendant, as we may perceive. She had drawn Mrs. Kame for a
partner, and the satisfaction and graciousness of that lady visibly grew
as the score mounted: even the skill of Trixton Brent could not triumph
over the hands which the two ladies held.

In the intervals the talk wandered into regions unfamiliar to Honora, and
she had a sense that her own horizon was being enlarged. A new vista, at
least, had been cut: possibilities became probabilities. Even when Mrs.
Kame chose to ridicule Quicksands Honora was silent, so keenly did she
feel the justice of her guest's remarks; and the implication was that
Honora did not belong there. When train time arrived and they were about
to climb into Trixton Brent's omnibus--for which he had obligingly
telephoned--Mrs. Kame took Honora's band in both her own. Some good