"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. "I can't see what particular amusement you find in watching two men prodding little ivory balls about on a table."
"Oh, well," said her hostess, "it's a way of passing the time, you know."
"A very poor way, to my mind," said Mrs. Thundleford; "now I was going to have shown all of you the photographs I took in Venice last summer."
"You showed them to us last night," said Mrs. Cuvering hastily.
"Those were the ones I took in Florence. These ar
