She felt that the very air of life was being walled and held away from her. Still another fierce longing for escape took hold of her, and she shuddered a little as she fought and battled against it. She seemed without the strength to speak, and could only shake her head and try not to shrink away from him.
“Still afraid of me, eh?” he asked, as he lifted her drooping head brazenly, with his forefinger under her chin. He studied her tear-stained, colorless face for a minute or two, and then he went on:
“Well, I’m not so rotten as I might be! Here’s a tip for you, little girl! The Duke of Kendall is goin’ to come in on a long shot and what’s more, he’s goin’ to run on odds of fifty to one!”
“You’re certain of it?” she gasped.
“Dead sure of it, between you and me! There’s a gang down at the Rossmore’d cover this floor with gold just to know that tip!”
“Then we can win! It’s not too late!” she broke out fervently, forgetting where she stood, forgetting the man before her. She was already reaching up to draw down her veil, with a glance over her shoulder at the door.
“Am I goin’ to see you again?” he still wheedled.
Again their eyes met. She had to struggle desperately to keep down the inward horror of it all. And now above all things there must be no missteps.
“Yes,” she murmured.
“When?” he demanded.