"Well, well, that was not your fault, lad, nor shall it be mine--here, catch," and out of his breeches-pocket he took a roll of crumpled notes and flung them at him; then suddenly turned upon his heels, with what sounded like a muttered execration at his own folly.
Yorke did not risk this unexpected treasure on the chances of the dice, but retired to his own room.

It was a dainty chamber, as we have said, and offered in its appointments a curious contrast to his late sleeping-room in the keeper's lodge.

He opened the door of communication to which the Squire had referred, and found himself in a sort of boudoir, in which, as in his own room, a good fire was burning.

By the lover of art-furniture, this latter apartment would have been pronounced a perfect gem.

Here also every article was of ebony, and flashed back the blaze from the red coals like dusky mirrors.