Grace started slightly and realized that Ethel had not overheard H. R.—he had taken care that she should not.
"No! I—I'm afraid, Hendrik," she stammered, turning pale. Women love to gamble—in their minds, when alone.
"You? Afraid? Of anything?" He looked at her in pained amazement. "Look at me!"
She did.
"I—I'll marry you any—anyway," she said, to show it was not cowardice, but the reverse.
"Play the game!" he said, sternly.
Before she knew it she obeyed. She sat down limply and said:
"Ethel, I w-want a s-s-sandwich!"
"You poor thing! You're actually faint with hunger. Don't you want some bouillon? Waiter!"
"No; I want a sandwich!" said Grace, loudly. You would have thought she had said, "Jacta est alea!"