He gives his mind to it,--which I can't. Hang it! I'm
always thinking of something quite different,--of what I'm going to eat,
or that sort of thing. Grossengrannel is always looking at the cards,
and he wins the odd rubber out of every eleven by his attention. Shall
we have a game of piquet?"
Now on the moment, in spite of all that he had felt during the entire
day, in the teeth of all his longings, in opposition to all his thirst,
Mountjoy for a minute or two did think that he could rise and go. His
father was about to put him on his legs again,--if only he would abstain.
But Vignolles had the card-table open, with clean packs, and chairs at
the corners, before he could decide. "What is it to be? Twos on the game
I suppose." But Mountjoy would not play piquet. He named ecarte, and
asked that it might be only ten shillings a game. It was many months now
since he had played a game of ecarte. "Oh, hang it!" said Vignolles,
still holding the pack in his hands. When thus appealed to Mountjoy
relented, and agreed that a pound should be staked on each game. When
they had played seven games Vignolles had won but one pound, and
expressed an opinion that that kind of thing wouldn't suit them at all.
"School-girls would do better," he said.
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