It was not so much what he said, as his manner of saying it. Bounder was written all over him, in his appearance, his manners, his gestures.
She answered him very briefly, almost curtly, as if she were administering a cold douche. Then the flush deepened as she turned to Spencer.
"May I introduce my cousin, Mr. Dutton?"
The florid man bowed with an exaggerated air of cordiality. Spencer, who had taken a violent dislike to him from the first second he saw him, acknowledged the salutation with chilling gravity; and Stella Keane could almost read his thoughts, as his gaze travelled from one to the other.
How could this imperial-looking girl have such an unmitigated bounder for a relative? What was the mystery about her that could make a creature like this claim kinship with her?
CHAPTER X
Mrs. L'Estrange was evidently a great believer in light: the electric bulbs glowed softly, but brilliantly, over the two rooms devoted to the service of the card-players.
On the sideboards were arranged decanters of whisky, and soda-water in bottles and syphons. Whether he lost or won, the gambler, triumphant or despairing, could quaff to his success, or solace his despair.