Asshlin leant across the table.
"There's a pack in the drawer of the side-board."
Burke crossed the room, but not over-eagerly; and, opening the drawer, produced the cards.
"'Tis the deck poor Misther Dinis got from Cork the self-same day——" he began. Then he stopped considerately; and added under his breath, "The Almighty God be good to us all!"
Clodagh took the cards from him, and stood very still, fingering them nervously. At any other time, the thought of playing with cards that belonged to the dead would have filled her with repugnance; but to-night all ordinary standards had been lost—all the world was chaos. She was like one who is slipping down into a bottomless abyss, and stretches desperate hands towards any straw that might offer respite.
She never changed her position while the table was being cleared; her only sign of emotion still being shown by the spasmodic way in which she passed the cards between her fingers. When at last the cloth had been removed and the candles replaced, she came quickly across the room and stood looking down upon her cousin.
She still mechanically shuffled the cards; but her glance, as it rested on Asshlin, was unconscious and absorbed, seeing only its own mental pictures.
"What shall we play, Larry? What game can two people play?"
Asshlin looked up.
"Piquet," he said, "or euchre."