But—” The tired woman raised her eyebrows in mild protest. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. “Look, dear,” she said presently, “you can put the ten on the Jack. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. “He will find it difficult no doubt to alter his style of living,” she said. The comtesse always felt Madame Valade to be not of her class, of course. " "I care for no risk, provided I can serve you," rejoined Sheppard.
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