Even his failures were
sensational. As Adela had said of him, he was amazing.
Hill's play was absolutely steady. It lacked the vitality of the younger
man's, but it had about it a clockwork species of regularity that Dot
found curiously pleasing to watch. She had not thought that her interest
could be so deeply aroused; before the game was half through she was as
deeply absorbed as anyone present.
It did not take her long to realize that public sympathy was entirely on
Warden's side, and it was that fact more than any other that disposed her
in Fletcher's favour. She saw that he had a hard fight before him, for
Warden led almost from the beginning, though with all his brilliancy he
never drew very far ahead. Fletcher kept a steady pace behind him, and
she knew he would not be easily beaten.
Once he came and stood beside her after a very creditable break, and she
slipped a shy hand into his for a few seconds. His fingers closed upon it
in that slow, inevitable way of his, but he neither spoke nor looked at
her, and she had a feeling that his attention never for an instant
wandered from the job in hand. She admired him for his concentration,
yet would she have been less than woman had she not felt slighted by it.
He might have given her one look!
Adela was full of enthusiasm for his opponent, and that also caused her
a vague sense of irritation. She was beginning to feel as if the evening
would never come to an end.
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