“What are you going to do, Lawrie?” unheeding him. “Bob and I are going on to Dublin to-morrow—you come too—”
He strode into the dining-room without answering—and she followed him. On the sideboard stood the spirit decanters as usual, and she saw his eye instantly turn to them, and a second later he had his hand upon the whisky.
Quickly she was at his side:
“Don’t have any more, Lawrie,” pleadingly. “You have had quite enough,” and she placed her hand over his. For one moment he glared at her again, then let go, and sinking into a chair by the table, buried his face in his hands.
“Have you been playing billiards?” she asked, resting her hand on his shoulder.
“Yes.”
“For high sums, I suppose?”
“Yes.”
“I hope there isn’t misery in some other house in Newry to-night, through you.”
“On the contrary, some of them must feel quite rich.”