Carmel followed suit, and, before I knew it, my own fingers had opened, and my own glass lay in pieces on the table-cloth beneath me.

Only Ranelagh's hand remained steady.

He did not choose to please her, or he was planning his perfidy and had not caught her words or understood her action.

She held her breath, watching that hand; and I can hear the gasp yet with which she saw him set his glass down quietly on the board.

That's the story of those three broken glasses.