He sat back with an air of being a fortress of reticence.
"Oh, go on--tell me! Penny, I think you are very mean .-- Grief, you tell me!" "The silver moon is shining; Oh, come, my love, to me! My heart----" "Be still, Wrinkles, will you ?--What was it, Grief?
Oh, go ahead and tell me!" "What do you want to know for ?" cried Grief, vastly exasperated.

"You've got more blamed curiosity---- It isn't anything at all, I keep saying to you." "Well, I know it is," said Florinda sullenly, "or you would tell me." When Hawker brought the cigarettes, Florinda smoked one, and then announced, "Well, I must go now." "Who is going to take you home, Splutter ?" "Oh, anyone," replied Florinda.
"I tell you what," said Grief, "we'll throw some poker hands, and the one who wins will have the distinguished honour of conveying Miss Splutter to her home and mother." Pennoyer and Wrinkles speedily routed the dishes to one end of the table.

Grief's fingers spun the halves of a pack of cards together with the pleased eagerness of a good player.

The faces grew solemn with the gambling solemnity.

"Now, you Indians," said Grief, dealing, "a draw, you understand, and then a show-down." Florinda leaned forward in her chair until it was poised on two legs.
The cards of Purple Sanderson and of Hawker were faced toward her.
Sanderson was gravely regarding two pair--aces and queens.