"I always choose hostesses that have," said Rex; "a pigeon-loft is
indicative of a careless, extravagant, genial disposition, such as I like
to see around me. People who strew corn broadcast for a lot of feathered
inanities that just sit about cooing and giving each other the glad eye
in a Louis Quatorze manner are pretty certain to do you well."
"Young Strinnit is coming down this afternoon," said Clovis reflectively;
"I dare say you won't find it difficult to get him to back himself at
billiards. He plays a pretty useful game, but he's not quite as good as
he fancies he is."
"I know one member of the party who can walk round him," said Rex softly,
an alert look coming into his eyes; "that cadaverous-looking Major who
arrived last night. I've seen him play at St. Moritz. If I could get
Strinnit to lay odds on himself against the Major the money would be safe
in my pocket. This looks like the good thing I've been watching and
praying for."
"Don't be rash," counselled Clovis, "Strinnit may play up to his self-
imagined form once in a blue moon."
"I intend to be rash," said Rex quietly, and the look on his face
corroborated his words.
"Are you all going to flock to the billiard-room?" asked Teresa
Thundleford, after dinner, with an air of some disapproval and a good
deal of annoyance.
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