The wonder of it was that Stephen could see beauty even in this dripping landscape. Elizabeth could not; she could only see that it was dreary and cold. The beds, stripped of their flowers, depressed her; the sky above was uniformly drab, lowering and chill.

Lady Ribblemere invited her to Afternoon Bridge. Elizabeth refused the invitation, saying that she did not really play. Lady Ribblemere said, Never mind, we are none of us good. In a misguided moment Elizabeth went. She had always absented herself from her aunt’s bridge-parties; she did not know the evil spell which Bridge casts over people; she had no idea that Bridge could transform a kindly, good-natured woman into a shrewish harpy. She was appalled to see how polish and good manners fell from Lady Ribblemere and her guests.

They cut for partners; everyone smiled and was polite. Elizabeth said nervously that she must warn them that she was a beginner. They were so encouraging that she took heart. Her partner was Mrs. Edmondston, the Vicar’s wife.

As soon as the hands were dealt round an air of gloom, of despair, and of suspicious secrecy descended on the three other women. Lady Ribblemere said, in an Oh-if-I-must-declare voice, One spade.

Then Elizabeth said, No, in quite the wrong tone of voice. She discovered soon that if you said No, you must say it wearily, and as though you were bored and wanted to stop playing and go home.

Mrs. Ffolliot, who had seemed at first a gay little woman with laughing eyes, also said No, very crossly. Elizabeth’s partner shrugged and proclaimed, One No Trump. Everyone said No to that, which made Mrs. Edmondston look more annoyed than ever. The game was played; that was easy. The worst came afterwards, when Mrs. Edmondston told Elizabeth that she had absolutely given the game away with that idiotic lead in the second round.

“I should have thought you must have known from my lead that I had the ace, queen, knave!” she snapped.

Elizabeth could only falter, I’m sorry. The worst thing of all, though, was when, at the end of the three rubbers, she found herself a winner. Mrs. Edmondston was pleased; their opponents were not.

“Never seen such cards!” Mrs. Ffolliot exclaimed peevishly. “Why, in that last hand I’d hardly one court card! Even then if you hadn’t thrown away your king, Lady Ribblemere, we might have had a chance.”

“You over called my hand in the previous round,” Lady Ribblemere retorted with dignity. “But our opponents had all the luck. I always think it so strange how the luck favours one side. Really, a very poor game to-day. So unequal. Dear me, all those honours, Mrs. Edmondston? I do not recollect— Oh, no doubt you are right! Yes, a very poor game.”

Yet all Elizabeth said to Stephen was, I didn’t enjoy it very much.