“You know I don’t hate you, Derry, but I’m rather bad at games.” “What good d’you think I am? I’ve never kissed a woman but Jenny since I was wed. The mercy is that, now that we’ve got to play, we’ve drawn each other instead of a couple of souls. It’s not a game that I’d play with everyone.” Rosemary threw up her head. “I’m not going to keep Virginia’s saddle dry.” “Or I Roger’s,” said Derry. “Don’t you believe it, my dear. If I didn’t think I could stand on my own flat feet, I’d get out of this chaise.” “But it wouldn’t console me at all to throw my arms round your neck. I’m very fond of you, Derry, but Roger’s my man.” “And Jenny’s my girl,” said Derry. “That’s why I want her back. And I think the way to get her is to show her that she hasn’t got me. Very well, then. I’ve got to find a playmate.” “That shouldn’t take you long,” said Rosemary Chase. “I could mention——” “I’ve a weakness,” said Derry Peruke, “for playing the game. I hate making love to a girl with my tongue in my cheek. Yet to explain the position would be to court trouble of the corrosive sort.” Rosemary laughed. “It’s perfectly obvious,” she said, “that you’ve known me too long. Familiarity has bred a wholesome contempt.” “One moment,” said Derry calmly. “All I’ve just said about me can be said about you—except that, even if you explained the position to your prey, he wouldn’t retort with vitriol. In fact, you’re so very charming that he’d probably jump at the chance. But that’s beside the point—which is that we each need a playmate by whom we can play the game. Well, our respective spice have fairly slung us into each other’s arms. . . . If you don’t want to play, say the word. But I think it’s a chance. Perhaps I was foolish to say that I loved you, dear, and that, as the game had to be played, I’d be happy to play it with you, but seventeen years of admiration are bound to leave their mark.” Rosemary bowed her head. “With anyone else I’d hate it. In fact, it couldn’t be done. With you—well, it’s very easy, lady, and that’s the truth.” He slid an arm round her waist. “I know I’m in love with Jenny, but when I say that I love you you know it’s true. For one thing, who could help it? Look at your mouth. . . . But it wouldn’t console me to kiss you, if you didn’t—understand. A state of emergency exists, requiring special measures of an abnormal kind. That I find those measures sweet is pure good fortune: they might have been nauseous. Of course, if you find them——” “I don’t,” said Rosemary, laying her head against his. “I—I rather like them, Derry. . . . I wonder what Roger would say if he——” “Will say,” corrected Derry. “Unless I’m much mistaken, it’ll send the blood to his head. An’ the same with my lawful wife. Then perhaps they’ll begin to perceive that marriage is not like bettin’ an’ you can’t have a bit each way. Whereupon they’ll gird up their loins and return to the fold.” “And we?”