"No," he said slowly.
"He was tolerably near it once or twice when he was alive, and, because of what he went through then, there may be something better in store for him." His companion appeared astonished, but said nothing further until he brought out the cards.

They played for an hour beside the snapping stove, and then, when, Winston flung a trump away, the officer groaned.
"I guess," he said disgustedly, "you're not well tonight or something is worrying you." Winston looked up with a little twinkle in his eyes.

"I don't know that there's very much wrong with me." "Then," said the officer decisively, "if the boys down at Regent know enough to remember what trumps are, you're not Lance Courthorne.

Now, after what I'd heard of you, I'd have put up fifty dollars for the pleasure of watching your game--and it's not worth ten cents when I've seen it." Winston laughed.

"Sit down and talk," he said.