he talked.
She pointed to the ace of the suit he called clubs. “Is this the one card?”
He shook his head. “The ace is the most powerful card in a suit.”
“Then why does is have only one clover on it? Shouldn’t it have twenty or thirty?”
“Because it doesn’t,” he answered with a frown.
“Well that’s just plain silly. If the number of clovers tells what the card is worth, then the most powerful card in the suit
should have more than one clover.”
“Perhaps, but that’s not the way it’s done.”
“Then where is the one card?”
“There isn’t a one card.” His voice sounded a little edgy.
“Why?”
“I—I don’t know.” He loosened his cravat and laid the suit of hearts on the table in a line, starting with the two card and
ending with the ace. He took a deep breath and started again. “The ace is higher than the king,which is higher than the queen, which is higher than the jack.”
“What is a jack?” she asked.
He raised his brows and pointed to the card.
“No, that’s not what I mean. I know which card is the jack card, but I don’t know what a jack is in real life.”
He rubbed his hand down his face and sighed. “Real life, Miss Mace?”
“Why, yes.” Perhaps she needed to explain things a little more slowly. He seemed to be having trouble keeping up. “You see,
a king and a queen rule a country, so it makes sense they would be powerful cards, but there’s no such thing as a jack, is
there? Shouldn’t that card be a duke card?”
“What would the ace be?” He looked quite perplexed.
“That’s a good question.” She paused to think. “Who has more power than a king?”
“God?”
“Perhaps they
should
have a God card, but that might be sacrilegious, don’t you think?”
Mr. Straights was at a loss for words. Evidently, he had never stopped to question the logic of his cards.
“And wouldn’t it be easier if they put numbers on them so you wouldn’t have to count the little hearts and clovers every time
they give you a card?” she asked.
He sighed again. “I don’t know, Miss Mace. I didn’t invent the cards, I just play with them.”
“It seems to me whoever invented them could’ve done a much better job of it, like making each suit have its own color instead
of everything being red and black.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge ofhis nose. “Perhaps you should invent a new deck with numbered pink butterflies and God cards.”
She smiled. “That would be delightful and would make more sense than black clovers that are called clubs and aces with only
one heart on them.”
There he went, grimacing again.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Straights. Do you have a headache?”
“Occasionally.”
“Oh.” She leaned back from the table and folded her hands on her lap. He didn’t seem to be enjoying their first lesson at
all. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked him so many questions he couldn’t answer. Men didn’t like that.
“I think that’s enough for today, Miss Mace,” he said, sounding far more tired than a man should at that hour of the morning.
She stood and smoothed down the front of her skirts. “I suppose it is. I need to go to the restaurant for lunch anyway.” She
walked to his door and peeked out to see if the deck was clear. “Until tomorrow, then?” she said back over her shoulder.
“I shall count the minutes.”
Dyer watched her slip out the door of his cabin, convinced his sanity had just been put to the ultimate test. He wasn’t sure
whether he’d passed or failed.
“God cards,” he muttered with a shake of his head as he scooped the deck off his table. He glanced down at the seven of spades
he held in his hand and had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that having numbers on the cards
would
make the game a little easier. “But it’ll be a cold day in Hell before I play with a deck that has pink butterflies . . .”
He sighed.
Now the woman had him talking to
She pointed to the ace of the suit he called clubs. “Is this the one card?”
He shook his head. “The ace is the most powerful card in a suit.”
“Then why does is have only one clover on it? Shouldn’t it have twenty or thirty?”
“Because it doesn’t,” he answered with a frown.
“Well that’s just plain silly. If the number of clovers tells what the card is worth, then the most powerful card in the suit
should have more than one clover.”
“Perhaps, but that’s not the way it’s done.”
“Then where is the one card?”
“There isn’t a one card.” His voice sounded a little edgy.
“Why?”
“I—I don’t know.” He loosened his cravat and laid the suit of hearts on the table in a line, starting with the two card and
ending with the ace. He took a deep breath and started again. “The ace is higher than the king,which is higher than the queen, which is higher than the jack.”
“What is a jack?” she asked.
He raised his brows and pointed to the card.
“No, that’s not what I mean. I know which card is the jack card, but I don’t know what a jack is in real life.”
He rubbed his hand down his face and sighed. “Real life, Miss Mace?”
“Why, yes.” Perhaps she needed to explain things a little more slowly. He seemed to be having trouble keeping up. “You see,
a king and a queen rule a country, so it makes sense they would be powerful cards, but there’s no such thing as a jack, is
there? Shouldn’t that card be a duke card?”
“What would the ace be?” He looked quite perplexed.
“That’s a good question.” She paused to think. “Who has more power than a king?”
“God?”
“Perhaps they
should
have a God card, but that might be sacrilegious, don’t you think?”
Mr. Straights was at a loss for words. Evidently, he had never stopped to question the logic of his cards.
“And wouldn’t it be easier if they put numbers on them so you wouldn’t have to count the little hearts and clovers every time
they give you a card?” she asked.
He sighed again. “I don’t know, Miss Mace. I didn’t invent the cards, I just play with them.”
“It seems to me whoever invented them could’ve done a much better job of it, like making each suit have its own color instead
of everything being red and black.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge ofhis nose. “Perhaps you should invent a new deck with numbered pink butterflies and God cards.”
She smiled. “That would be delightful and would make more sense than black clovers that are called clubs and aces with only
one heart on them.”
There he went, grimacing again.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Straights. Do you have a headache?”
“Occasionally.”
“Oh.” She leaned back from the table and folded her hands on her lap. He didn’t seem to be enjoying their first lesson at
all. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked him so many questions he couldn’t answer. Men didn’t like that.
“I think that’s enough for today, Miss Mace,” he said, sounding far more tired than a man should at that hour of the morning.
She stood and smoothed down the front of her skirts. “I suppose it is. I need to go to the restaurant for lunch anyway.” She
walked to his door and peeked out to see if the deck was clear. “Until tomorrow, then?” she said back over her shoulder.
“I shall count the minutes.”
Dyer watched her slip out the door of his cabin, convinced his sanity had just been put to the ultimate test. He wasn’t sure
whether he’d passed or failed.
“God cards,” he muttered with a shake of his head as he scooped the deck off his table. He glanced down at the seven of spades
he held in his hand and had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that having numbers on the cards
would
make the game a little easier. “But it’ll be a cold day in Hell before I play with a deck that has pink butterflies . . .”
He sighed.
Now the woman had him talking to
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