ties. A few more moves and I was inextricably entangled in the snare of my antagonist.
"Check,"—cried he: I sought in agony some means of escape—"mate!" he added, quietly but with evident delight. He had suspended the utterance of that last fatal syllable the better to enjoy my dismay. I was foolishly disconcerted by the event. Hattersley laughed; Milicent was troubled to see me so disturbed. Hargrave placed his hand on mine that rested on the table, and squeezing it with a firm but gentle pressure, murmured "Beaten—beaten!" and gazed into my face with a look where exultation was blended with an expression of ardour and tenderness yet more insulting.
"No, never, Mr. Hargrave!" exclaimed I, quickly withdrawing my hand.
"Do you deny?" replied he, smilingly pointing to the board.
"No, no," I answered, recollecting how strange my conduct must appear; "you have beaten me in that game."
