And apparently she soon found something to like in this strange intimate of her husband's; at least she had made no protest after the gambler's first visit to the house.
On his part Gilmore was quickly conscious of the subtle encouragement she extended him.

She understood him, she saw into his soul, she divined his passion for her and she was not shocked by it.

In his unholy musings he told himself that here was a woman who was dead game--and a lady, too, with all the pretty ways and refinements that were so lacking in the other women he had known.
Montgomery was some two days gone toward the West and Gilmore had dropped around ostensibly to see Marshall Langham, but in reality to make love to Marshall Langham's wife, when the judge, looking gray and old, walked in on the little group unobserved.

He paused for an instant near the door.
Evelyn was seated before the piano and Gilmore was bending above her, while Marshall, with an unread book in his hands and with a half-smoked cigar between his teeth, was lounging in front of the fire.

The judge's glance rested questioningly on Gilmore, but only for a moment.