This time there wasn't any doubt. 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. Watching her strip had been delicious for him, and a part of him enjoyed her self-consciousness acutely. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. His fellow-prisoners nicknamed him the gallows-provider, from a habit he had of picking out all those who were destined to the gibbet. ’ She counted off on her fingers. “Stop this—this humbugging,” he explained. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise.
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