"How tired I am!" she thought wearily. "Will
this evening never end? Oh! I wish I have never come. I wish I
were going away somewhere, anywhere, so that I should never
see or hear again of anybody, that knows anything about me.
Why cannot we go home? It must be very late. I wonder what
time it is? Perhaps there is a clock in here."
The door of the room which Graham had said led into the garden
stood ajar; she pushed it open, and went in. It was a small
room, with a glass door at the further end, and on this
evening had been arranged for cards, so that Madelon, on
entering, suddenly found herself in the midst of green-baize-
covered tables, lighted candles, packs of cards, and a dozen
or so of silent, absorbed gentlemen, intent upon the trumps
and honours, points and odd tricks. The girl, already excited,
and morbidly susceptible, stopped short at this spectacle, as
one struck with a sudden blow. Not for years, not since that
evening the memory of which ever came upon her with a sudden
sting, when she had met Monsieur Horace at the gambling-tables
of Spa, had Madelon seen a card; Mrs.
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