Lord Etherington showed chagrin and displeasure, and seemed to think that the rigour of the game had been more insisted upon than in courtesy it ought to have been, when men were playing for so small a stake.

Mowbray did not understand this logic.

A thousand pounds, he said, were in his eyes no nutshells; the rules of piquet were insisted on by all but boys and women; and for his part, he had rather not play at all than not play the game.
"So it would seem, my dear Mowbray," said the Earl; "for on my soul, I never saw so disconsolate a visage as thine during that unlucky game--it withdrew all my attention from my hand; and I may safely say, your rueful countenance has stood me in a thousand pounds.

If I could transfer thy long visage to canvass, I should have both my revenge and my money; for a correct resemblance would be worth not a penny less than the original has cost me." "You are welcome to your jest, my lord," said Mowbray, "it has been well paid for; and I will serve you in ten thousand at the same rate.

What say you ?" he proceeded, taking up and shuffling the cards, "will you do yourself more justice in another game ?--Revenge, they say, is sweet." "I have no appetite for it this evening," said the Earl, gravely; "if I had, Mowbray, you might come by the worse.