But that he, Lionel, should be afraid of
this young idiot? What was there to be afraid of? He was no
swashbuckler--this pallid youth with the thin lips, who concentrated all
his attention on the cards, and had no word or jest for his neighbors.
How could there be anything baleful in the expression of eyes that were
curiously expressionless? It was a pretty face (Lionel had at one time
thought), but now it seemed capable of a good deal of relentless
determination. Lionel had heard of people shivering when brought into
contact with the repellent atmosphere that appeared to surround a
particular person; but what was there deadly about this young man?
The game at first was not very exciting, though now and again the joker
played a merry trick, appearing in some unexpected place, and laying
many a good hand low. Indeed, it almost seemed as if Lionel had resolved
to recoup himself by steady play; and so far there had been no duel
between him and young Miles. That was not distant, however. On this
occasion Lionel, who was seated on the left of the dealer--in other
words, he being age--when the cards were dealt found himself with two
pairs in his hand, aces and queens.
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