"You have been losing, I suppose, Mr.Hawkehurst," she said, "or you would not have come home ?" "I am compelled to admit that you are right in your premise, Miss Paget, and your deduction is scarcely worth discussion.

I _have_ been losing--confoundedly; and as they don't give credit at the board of green cloth yonder, there was no excuse for my staying.

Your father has not been holding his own within the last hour or two; but when I left the rooms he was going to the Hotel d'Orange with some French fellows for a quiet game of _ecarte_.

Our friend the Captain is a great card, Miss Paget, and has a delightful talent for picking up distinguished acquaintance." There are few daughters who would have cared to hear a father spoken of in this free-and-easy manner; but Diana Paget was quite unmoved.

She had resumed her old attitude, and sat looking towards the lighted windows of the Kursaal, while Mr.Hawkehurst lounged against the angle of the window with his hands in his pockets and a cigar in his mouth.
For three years Valentine Hawkehurst had lived in constant companionship with the Captain's daughter; and in that time his manner to her had undergone considerable variation.