Miss Lucy Carrington looked at the group of three as they approached the bridge table. She had a knack for reading people, and she could sense the underlying tensions and dynamics between Gray Haviland, Anita Frayne, and Count Charlier. Despite her own plain exterior, she held a quiet confidence in her ability to navigate social situations and understand the true intentions of those around her.

As they settled down to play, the conversation turned to light banter and polite pleasantries. Count Charlier's charm was on full display, his gallant demeanor contrasting with Gray's more relaxed attitude and Anita's coquettish charm. Miss Carrington observed them all with a keen eye, noting the nuances of their interactions and the subtle shifts in their expressions.

As the game progressed, Miss Carrington's mind wandered to the events of the evening. The majestic snow-covered landscape outside, the moon casting its silvery glow over the gardens, and the quiet beauty of Garden Steps all formed a backdrop to the drama unfolding within the house. She knew that beneath the surface of polite society, there were secrets and desires that could upend the carefully constructed facades that people presented to the world.

With a steady hand and a shrewd intellect, Miss Carrington played her cards, both in the game of bridge and in the game of social intrigue. She was aware that her lack of conventional beauty had forced her to develop other skills and strengths, and she wielded them with precision and grace.

As the evening drew to a close, Miss Carrington bid her guests goodnight with a smile that held a hint of mystery and warmth. She knew that the night was far from over, and that the true test of character and courage lay ahead for all who dwelt within the walls of Garden Steps. And she was ready, as always, to face whatever challenges came her way, with her curved blades sharpened and her wits as keen as ever.To be sure, the Count had as yet said no word that could be construed as of definite intention, but there had been certain signs, deemed portentous by the willing mind of the lady in question.

Bridge was Miss Carrington's favorite diversion, and, as the Count also enjoyed it, frequent evenings were devoted to the game. It was, perhaps, a mistake that Miss Carrington should have allowed this, for her temper, always uncertain, lost all restraint when she suffered ill-luck at cards. A poor hand always brought down violent objurgation on the head of her partner and sarcastic comment or criticism on her adversaries. These 

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