Explore "The Dangerfield Talisman" by J.J. Connington on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"Lucky again, partner," commented Westenhanger, breaking into Eileen Cressage's thoughts as he took up the scoring-block. "That's game and rubber, Douglas. Your mind must be wandering."
Douglas Fairmile had glanced down the room to where a fair-haired girl was sitting with a rather red-faced man. Douglas's brows contracted slightly. That fellow Morchard had attempted to monopolise Cynthia this evening; but surely anyone could see that the girl was bored. A persistent creature, Morchard-rather too persistent at times, Douglas felt. Then at the sound of Westenhanger's voice, his attention came back to the bridge-table.