The eyes left him, searching beside the chair for her cane. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. Ramage admitted the force of that. —There, Mr. Manning, Lady Palsworthy’s nephew, a tall young man of seven-and-thirty with a handsome, thoughtful, impassive face, a full black mustache, and a certain heavy luxuriousness of gesture. "You play?" asked McClintock, who was sorting the rolls. Capes saw her, felt for her, cared for her greatly, even if he did not love her. For yonder went the loneliest man in all God's unhappy world. "Well, Sir Rowland," he said, after a brief pause, during which the knight regarded him with a searching glance, as if endeavouring to recall his features, "I will not gainsay your words. I wonder.
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