He murmured his delight, and joined the bridge party, where he played with less than his accustomed skill. "How?" cried her brother, starting. The strong potation he had taken, combined with fatigue and anxiety he had previously undergone, made him oversleep himself, and when he awoke it was just beginning to grow light. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. And, mind, it's for his sister, Lady Trafford. ‘Me, I have a name.
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