I was soon to know to a nicety the bridge status of everyone in Lymstock. Mrs Symmington was an exceedingly good bridge player and was quite a devotee of the game. Like many definitely unintellectual women, she was not stupid and had a considerable natural shrewdness. Her husband was a good sound player, slightly over-cautious. Mr Pye can best be described as brilliant. He had an uncanny flair for psychic bidding. Joanna and I, since the party was in our honour, played at a table with Mrs Symmington and Mr Pye. It was Symmington’s task to pour oil on troubled waters and by the exercise of tact to reconcile the three other players at his table. Colonel Appleton, as I have said, was wont to play ‘a plucky game’. (Location 615)
Little Miss Barton was without exception the worst bridge player I have ever come across and always enjoyed herself enormously. She did manage to follow suit, but had the wildest ideas as to the strength of her hand, never knew the score, repeatedly led out of the wrong hand and was quite unable to count trumps and often forgot what they were. Aimée Griffith’s play can be summed up in her own words. ‘I like a good game of bridge with no nonsense—and I don’t play any of these rubbishy conventions. I say what I mean. And no postmortems! After all, it’s only a game!’ (Location 620)
‘Do tell me, why have you never married, Mr Burton?’ In anyone else it would have been an impertinence, but with Mrs Dane Calthrop you felt that the idea had suddenly come into her head and she had really wanted to know. ‘Shall we say,’ I said, rallying, ‘that I have never met the right woman?’ ‘We can say so,’ said Mrs Dane Calthrop, ‘but it wouldn’t be a very good answer, because so many men have obviously married the wrong woman.’ (Location 1498)
