Drummond patted him on the shoulder. Every drop of blood in her body glowed and expanded. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. He was apt to play so many games, she was afraid she might have misunderstood. She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks.
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