No, I'll not play; I'll not play." He paid his score and went out of the hotel by a side door.

Some distance up the street, Bareaud was still to be seen, lounging homeward in the pleasant afternoon sunshine, he stopped on a corner and serenely poured another quinine powder into himself and threw the paper to a couple of pigs who looked up from the gutter maliciously.
"Confound him!" said Crailey, laughing ruefully.

"He makes me a missionary--for I'll keep my word to Fanchon in that, at least! I'll look after Jefferson tonight.

Ah, I might as well be old Tom Vanrevel, indeed!" Meanwhile, Mr.Carewe had taken possession of his own again.

His daughter ran to the door to meet him; she was trembling a little, and, blushing and smiling, held out both her hands to him, so that Mrs.
Tanberry vowed this was the loveliest creature in the world, and the kindest.
Mr.Carewe bowed slightly, as to an acquaintance, and disregarded the extended hands.
At that, the blush faded from Miss Betty's cheeks; she trembled no more, and a salutation as icy as her father's was returned to him.