"Then, by Heaven! you are a dead man!" replied Jack, cocking a pistol, and pointing it deliberately at his head. “It would have been rash and unwise,” she said at the end of a meditation. To simplify matters, he carried a coloured paper lantern upon which his license number was painted in Arabic numerals. The two lovers sat together, and their sole discourse turned upon Jack and his ill-fated mother. 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. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out.
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