For even while she was speaking the corners of
Steve's eyelids began to crinkle; before she had finished mocking at
him in a voice that still caught unsteadily in her throat, it was her
up-turned face which had grown pink under his gravely amused scrutiny.
"Was it as bad as that?" he asked. "I don't know that I mind the
'benign' part so very much, but as for my 'surety'--well, now I must
set you right. I have seen men holding four aces sit with faces so sad
and hopeless that they might have earned their fortunes as professional
mourners, could their expressions have been rendered permanent. I've
seen men with straight flushes bow their heads in sorrow over the cards
they held. And I think the one beatific visage it has been my good
luck to behold belonged to Fat Joe, one night when the rest of the
table had raised his very feet out from under him. He sat and beamed;
he radiated good cheer--now and then he chuckled with positively
insulting self-confidence, while he was pushing forward all the chips
he owned . . . and he had two deuces and four spades to back it up!
"You'll find that most men play that way--most men, I mean, who play
for big stakes and play to win. And so--but I've told you already that
I'm going to put all my cards on the table, with you. You're going to
know, always, the hand I hold. Why, I told you I wasn't sure, even a
little bit.
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