After dinner we played a game of poker in the sitting-room, not for
high stakes, only just chaff and fun, and Tom made outrageous love to
Columbia, who answered him with the cleverest parries. American girls
are miles ahead of us in brilliant repartee. Then someone played the
piano and we all sang songs, and from the kitchen where Cassandra was
washing up the dishes, came the most melodious second in that sweet
perfect harmony which the negroes seem so well to understand.
Placed carelessly among some books on a table by the side of the piano
were two revolvers (I must call them "guns" here, because that is their
name) and I did such a silly thing without thinking, so unaccustomed are
we at home to realise anything could be loaded that was casually lying
about. I picked one up and examined the tracing on the barrel, never
noticing that it was pointing straight up at my head, until I felt
Nelson's iron grip upon my wrist, while he took it from my hand. His
face was white as death. "My God!" he said, "my God, quit touching
that!" Then he walked quickly to the door and opened it and looked out
on the night. There was no hall, the sitting-room is straight on the
street. He took a great deep breath and came back again, and then he
laughed, "Guess I'm a pretty fool," he said; "I've had them pointed
direct at me with the finger on the trigger, too, and never turned a
hair, but, by the Lord, to see your flower face close to that grim thing
makes me kind of sick.
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