But about his unknown rival he was acutely curious. His hand flew across the paper. The manager stared at the empty doorway for a space, shrugged, and returned to his ledgers. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. The idea of this sudden reluctance was elusive; the fact was evident but not the reason for it. ‘You make a game with me, I think. " "Offer them my hearty thanks," replied Jack, waving his hand to the group, all of whom returned the salutation. They had been informally introduced during floor hockey, when Katy had sent a puck flying into Lucy’s face.
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