He preferred poker himself, if Bruce cared to take a hand; and so the evening went on, with the theological discussion by Hi and Bill in a judicial, friendly spirit in one corner, while the others for the most part played poker.
When the missionary returned late there were only a few left in the room, among them The Duke and Bruce, who was drinking steadily and losing money.

The missionary's presence seemed to irritate him, and he played even more recklessly than usual, swearing deeply at every loss.
At the door the missionary stood looking up into the night sky and humming softly "Sun of My Soul," and after a few minutes The Duke joined in humming a bass to the air till Bruce could contain himself no longer.
"I say," he called out, "this isn't any blanked prayer-meeting, is it ?" The Duke ceased humming, and, looking at Bruce, said quietly: "Well, what is it?
What's the trouble ?" "Trouble!" shouted Bruce.

"I don't see what hymn-singing has to do with a poker game." "Oh, I see! I beg pardon! Was I singing ?" said The Duke.

Then after a pause he added, "You're quite right.

I say, Bruce, let's quit.