Forbes
hurried to the steps to greet the party.
"Hullo, Oliver! A thousand congratulations, old fellow! Never mind the
figures. A win's a win! But I thought you would have been dining and
junketing in Dunscombe to-night. How on earth did you get them to
let you off?"
Oliver's tired countenance smiled perfunctorily as he swung himself down
from the coach. He allowed his hand to be shaken; his lips moved, but
only a husky whisper emerged.
"Lost his voice," Roland Lankester explained. "And so done that we
begged him off from the Dunscombe dinner. He's only fit for bed."
And with a wave of the hand to the company, Marsham, weary and worn,
mounted the steps, and, passing rapidly through the hall, went
up-stairs. Alicia Drake and Lankester followed, pausing in the hall to
talk with Bobbie.
Alicia too looked tired out. She was dressed in a marvellous gown of
white chiffon, adorned with a large rosette of Marsham's
colors--red-and-yellow--and wore a hat entirely composed of red and
yellow roses. The colors were not becoming to her, and she had no air of
happy triumph. Rather, both in her and in Marsham there were strong
signs of suppressed chagrin and indignation.
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