Her vanity did not concern him greatly; for, after all, what was he doing here?
Merely filling in dark days, living a sober-coloured game out.

He had one solitary hundred dollars--no more; and half of that he had borrowed, and half of it he got from selling his shooting-traps and his hunting-watch.
He might worry along on that till the end of the game; but he had no money to send his sister in that secluded village two hundred miles away.

She had never known how really poor he was; and she had lived in her simple way without want and without any unusual anxiety, save for his health.

More than once he had practically starved himself to send money to her.

Perhaps also he would have starved others for the same purpose.
"I'll warrant the Casimbaults never enjoyed the Manor as much as I've done that big kitchen in your house," he said, "and I can't see why you want to leave it.