rage, despair and disgust with which these various topics filled her, she had narrowly to watch Diva’s play, in order, at the end, to point out to her with lucid firmness all the mistakes she had made, while with snorts and sniffs and muttered exclamations and jerks of the head and pullings-out of cards and puttings of them back with amazing assertions that she had not quitted them, she wrestled with the task she had set herself of getting two no-trumps. It was impossible to count the tricks that Diva made, for she had a habit of putting her elbow on them after she had raked them in, as if in fear that her adversaries would filch them when she was not looking, and Miss Mapp, distracted with other interests, forgot that no-trumps had been declared and thought it was hearts, of which Diva played several after their adversaries’ hands were quite denuded of them. She often did that “to make sure.”
“Three tricks,” she said triumphantly at the conclusion, counting the cards in the cache below her elbow.
Miss Mapp gave a long sigh, but remembered that Mr. Wyse was present.
“You could have got two more,” she said, “if you hadn’t played those hearts, dear. You would have been able to trump Major Benjy’s club and the Padre’s diamond, and we should have gone out. Never mind, you played it beautifully otherwise.”
“Can’t trump when it’s no trumps,” said Diva, forgetting that Mr. Wyse was there. “That’s nonsense. Got three tricks. Did go out. Did you think it was hearts? Wasn’t.”
Miss Mapp naturally could not demean herself to take any notice of this.
“Your deal, is it, Major Benjy?” she asked. “Me to cut?”
