The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. 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. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. “Is your husband here to-night?” he asked. " "Well, take a chair," rejoined Kneebone. EPOCH THE FIRST, 1703. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket.
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