from all other men. He was standing close to her now, and the nearness of
his presence thrilled her. She tingled from head to foot, as if under the
power of an electric battery.

His late opponent stood facing her on the other side of the table, a
grey-haired man with crafty eyes that seemed to look in all directions at
the same time. She took an instinctive dislike to him. He wore a furtive
air.

Warden stood up again, moving with that free swing of his as of one born
to conquer. He turned deliberately and faced them.

"Good evening, Mr. Hill!" he said. "I'm standing drinks all round. I hope
you will join us."

It was frankly spoken, and Hill's instant refusal sounded unnecessarily
curt in Dot's ears.

"No, thanks. I am with ladies," he said. "I suppose the play is over?"

Warden glanced across the table. "Unless Harley wants his revenge," he
said.

The grey-haired man uttered a laugh that was like the bark of a vicious
dog. "I'll have that another day," he said. "It won't spoil by keeping.
You are a player yourself, Mr. Hill. Why don't you take him on?"

"Oh, do!" burst forth Adela. "I should love to see a good game. You ask
him to, Dot! He'll do it for you."