" "Take time to consider of it," replied Wood sulkily, "there's no hurry. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. ‘Melusine. ’ ‘But Gérard knows. . His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. ” Sydney looked at her doubtfully. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant.
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