with
all his faults was nothing of a snob, "it's human nature for Vigoureux
to feel sore. As for the magistracy, he's not the man to value it one
pin. It's the neglect; and to meet the old fellow mooning around his
batteries as I did this very afternoon--I tell you it makes a man
sorry."

If this speech did Mr. Rogers credit he cancelled it presently by his
atrocious behaviour at cards. The symmetry of the party being broken,
Miss Gabriel announced that she had enjoyed enough whist for the
evening, and that nothing in the world would give her greater pleasure
than half-an-hour's quiet talk, with the Vicar--that was, if Mrs.
Fossell and he would not mind cutting out and surrendering their seats
to Mr. Fossell and Mr. Rogers. In saying this she outrageously
flattered the Vicar, with whom it was impossible to hold conversation
in any tone below that of shouting. She meant that she was prepared to
listen; and she knew that no flattery was too outrageous for him to
swallow. She knew also that Mrs. Fossell in her heart of hearts
abhorred cards, and would be only too grateful for release, to look
after the preparations for supper and scold the parlour-maid outside.
So the Vicar and Mrs. Fossell cut out, and Mr. Fossell and Mr. Rogers
replaced them as partners against Mr. and Mrs. Pope.

Mr. and Mrs. Pope always played together. No one knew why, but it had
come to be an understood thing. Of "calls" and "echoes" the play of Mr.
and Mrs. Pope was innocent; but when Mrs. Pope, being second hand,
hesitated whether to trump her opponent's card or pass it, Mr. Pope had
an unconscious habit of saying, "Now dearest," when he desired her to
trump; and another unconscious habit, when Mrs. Pope had the lead and
he wanted trumps, of murmuring, "Your turn, darling." These two habits
Mr. Rogers had noted; and being in merry pin to-night over winning his
half-crown, at a moment when Mr. Fossell, having the lead, appeared to
hesitate (but the hesitation was only a part of Mr. Fossell's
deliberate play), he leaned over and playfully suggested, "Your turn,
darling!"

Mr. Fossell stared in the act of putting down a trump. For a moment he
appeared to think that Mr. Rogers had gone mad; then, in spite of
himself, the lines of his mouth relaxed.

"I do not think," said Mr. Pope, heavily--and the lines of Mr.
Fossell's mouth at once grew rigid again--"I do not think you two ought
to signal for trumps in that fashion."

His partner looked up i