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 "Then you knew the Broadfeathers had started a long time ahead of us, I take it," he said.

"At least I was certain they knew I hoped they would! Last night I think he drank too much. After we had played bridge for a time he was so confused he didn't know how to count. One moment he would be almost quarrelsome with poor little Hyacinthe and the next he would be—with me—too pleasant! He became—well, I must call it odious; and we had to stop playing. I am afraid his poor, round, little, old wife must have been very mortified; and I hope she is giving him such a day of it now as he deserves. We'll not see them again. Do you object if we don't talk of him? It was a little painful."

Ogle had his own reasons for regarding the subject of General Sir William Broadfeather as a little painful; but he acquiesced without mentioning them. "Very well," he said, and, as he added nothing to that, she looked at him inquiringly.

"You are hating me again? Have I done somesing more?"

"Not at all."

She shook her head and sighed. "I shouldn't have come with you. You are not happy."