” They remained looking at each other for three or four seconds. You are not playing to-night, are you?” “Not to-night,” she answered. She shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with him. The man had favoured him with a brief nod, but the girl had gone so far as to offer a tiny smile, and a look under her lashes with which not even Gerald, for all his scant interest in female society, could fail to be familiar. It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford. .
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