With thinly veiled glee, Michelle described a rumor she had heard about John at a recent party. In another minute, the tramp of horses' feet told that the perpetrators of the outrage had effected their escape. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. The two young fools laughed until they cried. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. “We should get out of here. You can go for a walk with Lucy. Everything in his favour—the luck of the gods! The only white men were miles down the coast.
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