Under the light of the tiny electric bulb which illuminated the car she
saw his face alter suddenly. The lines on either side the sensitive
mouth seemed to deepen and a weary gravity showed for an instant in his
grey-blue eyes.

"Appearances are known to be deceitful, aren't they?" he answered, with
an attempt at lightness. "No, I'm afraid I've not been specially lucky."

"In love or in cards?"

The words left Nan's lips unthinkingly, almost before she was aware, and
she regretted them the moment they were spoken. She felt he must
inevitably suspect her of a prying curiosity.

"I'm lucky at cards," he replied quietly.

There was something in his voice that appealed to Nan's quick, warm
sympathies.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she said, rather tremulously. "Perhaps, some day,
the other kind of luck will come, too."

"That's out of the question"--harshly.

"Do you know a little poem called 'Empty Hands'?" she asked. "I set it
to music one day because I liked the words so much. Listen."

In a low voice, a trifle shaken by reason of the sudden tensity which had
crept into the atmosphere, she repeated the brief lyric: