“Nor to my sister,” muttered she, still dwelling on her own thoughts.
“Certainly not. It was a great indiscretion—that is, it would have been a great indiscretion to have mentioned this to any one less—less——”
While he was searching his brain for an epithet, she arose and walked to a window, and Mr. M’Kinlay, rather shocked at his own impetuous frankness, sat thinking over all that he had said.
“Come, Sir Within,” cried Vyner, “here’s my friend M’Kinlay, a capital whist player. What say you to a rubber? and Georgina, will you join us?”
“Not to-night, Gervais. Laura will take my place.”
Lady Vyner acceded good naturedly, with many excuses for all her ignorance of the game, and while Sir Within and Vyner held a little amicable contest for her as a partner, Georgina drew again nigh to where M’Kinlay was standing.
“Did he look very old and broken? asked she, in a low but shaken voice.
“Terribly broken.”
“What age would you guess him to be?”
“Fifty-four, or five; perhaps older.”