"
Fletcher considered the point. "I believe it's a fairly respectable
crowd," he said, looking at Dot. "But you're tired."
"Oh, no," she said at once. "I don't feel a bit sleepy. Let us go in by
all means if you think no one will mind! I like watching billiards, too."
"It's a man called Warden," said Adela. "That's the new manager of the
Fortescue Gold Mine, isn't it? They say he has the most marvelous luck.
He is playing the old manager--Harley, and giving him fifty points.
There's some pretty warm betting going on, I can tell you. Do let us go
and have a look at them! They've got the girl from the bar to mark for
them, so we shan't be the only women there."
She was evidently on fire for this new excitement, and Fletcher Hill,
seeing that Dot meant what she said, led the way without further
discussion. He paused outside the billiard-room door, which stood ajar;
for a tense silence reigned. But it was broken in a moment by the sharp
clash of the balls and a perfect howl of enthusiasm from the spectators.
"Oh, it's over!" exclaimed Adela. "What a pity! Never mind! Let's go in!
Perhaps they'll play again."
The barmaid came flying out to fetch drinks as they entered. The
atmosphere of the room was thick with smoke. A babel of voices filled it.
Men who had been sitting round the walls were grouped about the table. In
the midst of them stood the victor in his shirt-sleeves, conspicuous in
the crowd by reason of his great height--a splendid figure of manhood
with a careless freedom of bearing that was in its way superb.
Pages:
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74