I sat by the window, the curtain of which was drawn apart, and the shutters unclosed.

A few yellow leaves stuck against the panes, unstirred by the melancholy wind, which sighed through the crevices.

Charles was at my right hand, by the mantel; the light from a candelabra illuminated him and Mr.Somers, while Helen and I were in shadow.

Mr.Somers dealt the cards, and we began the game.
"We shall beat you," he said to Charles.
"Not unless Cassandra has improved," he replied.
I promised to do my best, but soon grew weary, and we were beaten.

To my surprise Mr.Somers was vexed.