Of course he hadn't played the game wisely. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. ’ He stopped suddenly, dismay creeping into his face. . On Monday Charvill had still not returned, and the major duly presented himself at Mrs Chalkney’s house in Grosvenor Square, thanking his stars that his friend Roding would not be there to spoil sport. That is the dreadful truth. He was just as much a greater master than any other I ever saw, as he was a greater judge of time and measure. “I wish that I could forget it,” he said.
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