At a quarter of nine, to the consternation of every one, Mrs.
Franklyn-Haldene was announced.
"Take me up stairs to the billiard-room," said Warrington; "I am not
in the mood to meet that woman to-night."
"Come on, then," cried John, willing enough. "There's the servants'
stairs. I'll give you a handicap of twenty in a hundred points."
"I'll beat you at those odds."
"That remains to be seen."
And the two hurried up the stairs just as the hall-door closed. The
billiard-room was situated at the head of the front stairs. Warrington
won the bank, and he ran a score of ten. While he was chalking his cue
he heard voices.
"It is very sad." It was Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene talking. "We shall miss
her in church work. It is a severe blow to Mr. Warrington."
"That was a good draw, John. Three cushions this time. Good. You're
playing strong to-night."
"Did you think to bring over your pajamas?" John asked irrelevantly.
Warrington smiled in spite of himself.
"I forgot all about them," he admitted.
"Thought you would, so I brought over two sets. We're about the same
size.
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