Dec 19: "This is a gentleman's game, madam," from Book girl fan.
December is a feeling in your heart.
...I'll finish the challenge, I promise.
Characters are from The Greek Interpreter.
Wilson Kemp and Harold Latimer looked as different as night and day, but in spirit they were two of a kind. While they travelled together, the two men would play cards every evening. I thought those times were when they most seemed like brothers. If they traded gibes and cursed their luck, it was with no true ill intent. And they did not play with high stakes - they saved those for when they worked together, away from the gaming table.
I watched them on those lonely evenings. I had few other ways to spend my time.
Latimer - Harold, he once was to me - gave me no notice. But Kemp sneered. "This is a gentleman's game, madam," that devil would say, with a sickening giggle.
Early on, I would give him a cold, hateful look in return, only slightly harsher than the one I wore throughout every day I spent with them. But as we travelled further east, I grew tired.
My brother must have been tired, back then. Yet he held firm. His memory haunted me. He suffered for my mistakes, he protected me while he could. I could not falter under the weight of his death. His memory steadied my hand.
I let myself fall into these men's power because I was careless. I knew I could not be careless in my escape.
Eventually, Latimer and Kemp had an argument that time did not smooth over. I saw the change in the atmosphere during their regular game. Kemp did not comment on my presence, too busy eyeing Latimer with contempt.
In their own way, they were careless, too. He who has a rival ignores other players.
More importantly, they did not know their rules. It was not a gentleman's game. There never were any gentlemen in it.
