Sylvia started. In her heart she knew that just some such proposal as this she had been dreading all the evening. Her sinking hopes died away altogether. This poor witless youth, plied with champagne; the older men who flattered him with lies; the suggestion of champagne made as though it were a sudden inspiration, and the six bottles standing ready in the cupboard; and now the suggestion of a little round game of cards made in just the same tone! Sylvia had a feeling of horror. She had kept herself unspotted from her world, but not through ignorance. She knew it. She knew those little round games of cards and what came of them, sometimes merely misery and ruin, sometimes a pistol shot in the early morning. She turned very pale, but she managed to say: "Thank you. I don't play cards." And then she heard a sudden movement by her father, who at the moment when Barstow spoke had been lighting a fresh cigar. She looked up. Garratt Skinner was staring in astonishment at Captain Barstow. "Cards!" he cried. "In my house? On a Sunday evening?" With each question his amazement grew, and he ended in a tone of remonstrance. "Come, Barstow, you know me too well to propose that. I am rather hurt. A friendly talk, and a smoke, yes. Perhaps a small whisky and soda. I don't say no. But cards on a Sunday evening! No indeed." "Oh, I say, Skinner," objected Wallie Hine. "There's no harm in a little game." Garratt Skinner shook his head at Hine in a grave friendly way. "Better leave cards alone, Wallie, always. You are young, you know." Hine flushed. "I am old enough to hold my own against any man," he cried, hotly. He felt that Garratt Skinner had humiliated him, and before this wonderful daughter of his in whose good favors Mr. Hine had been making such inroads during supper. Barstow apologized for his suggestion at once, but Hine was now quite unwilling that he should withdraw it. "There's no harm in it," he cried. "I really think you are too Puritanical, isn't he, Miss--Miss Sylvia?" Hine had been endeavoring to pluck up courage to use her Christian name all the evening. His pride that he had actually spoken it was so great that he did not remark at all her little movement of disgust. Garratt Skinner seemed to weaken in his resolution. "Well, of course, Wallie," he said, "I want you to enjoy yourselves. And if you especially want it--" Did he notice that Sylvia closed her eyes and really shivered? She could not tell. But he suddenly spoke in a tone of revolt: "But card-playing on Sunday. Really no!" "It's done nowadays at the West-End Clubs," said Archie Parminter. "Oh, is it?" said Garratt Skinner, again grown doubtful. "Is it, indeed? Well, if they do it in the Clubs--" And then with an exclamation of relief--"I haven't got a pack of cards in the house. That settles the point." "There's a public house almost next door," replied Barstow. "If you send out your servant, I am sure she could borrow one."