with not a soul who really cared for her in the entire world. Why had n’t she married some decent young fellow out of the hundreds she might have had during her first seasons in London, instead of losing her head and running amuck the way she had done? God only knew what she had expected then. Nothing had seemed too high for her to attain. There were dukes she might have had if she had only played her hand more carefully, more conservatively. That hand which had been full of trumps! But she had over-played, and now at the end of the game what had she won? Nothing! Nothing that gave her the slightest satisfaction—except that which she still derived from the remnants of her beauty. She bit her lips fiercely; she was still young! She would not grow old! She would play the game until the candles grew dim and then—she shrugged her shoulders and closed her eyes. The light faded out of the west and the wind rose, while a gull squeaked harshly with a sound like the chalking of a billiard cue, and shot aslant the wind a few feet from the rail before her like a bird of evil omen. The two old maids staggering by to get up an appetite for
