Four people were seated playing bridge in the comfortable house in Cambridge of Susan Skipwith, wife of the Dolbey Professor of Entomology. They were four friends who met regularly once a week to play what they called bridge, but what others might have been tempted to describe as cards and chatter. The rubber concluded, they cut afresh for another.
“Yes,” said Prudence, in her soft, refined voice, answering a question, “I love watching a good rugger match, but some blasted wife always gets between me and the realization of my desire.”
This sounds promising. At least, it sounds like the characters are more realistic than the ones in Death on the Cherwell.