He can't play cards, either, when he's sober. ’ Her gaze followed the butler, who was moving towards the door. The figure of the girl upon it in plain black dress, standing with her hands behind her, was an undeniable and astonishing likeness of herself. Corbet Kynaston, then? Sir John Packington's courier was here yesterday. Why should he stare at her in this fashion?—for all the world as if she had pointed a pistol at his head? CHAPTER III He had said it, spoken it like that … his own name! After all these weeks of trying to obliterate even the memory of it!… to have given it to this girl without her asking! The thought of peril cleared a space in the alcoholic fog. I swear it. To reach the door they had to pass the end of the table, and behind the chair where Mr.
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