icular reason,
really?" His heart beat so hard, because of the sweetness in her
expression, that it seemed to him she must hear it pounding, that she
must look through the mask he wore, and read his love for her.

But his mask was impenetrable, and Nina answered lightly: "I wonder
which reason you would like me to give? I wonder if it would make any
real difference to you whether I said just _glad_--or glad because of
something?"

He forced himself to speak with a stolidity that walled in securely his
threatening emotions. "I am not a bit good at guessing the meaning of
sentences that have no direct statement in them. You see, they are not
the kind my grammar book taught me!"

Nina smiled. "You like a regular, straight-out, simple sentence with one
subject and one predicate, don't you?"

"That's it! And as few qualifying clauses as possible."

"And as your speech is, so are your actions. No time for trivialities.
Big, serious things!" To her surprise she felt a sharp pain in her
throat.

"What an old bear I must seem to you----" His sentence broke off as the
Countess Masco interrupted them.

"Come along, John--you'll play, won't you? We are waiting!" Count Rosso
had already deserted Zoya for the green table.

"Do you need me?" Derby asked.

"Of course we do! The more the jollier; it is dreadfully dull without a
lot."

Nina and the Countess Zoya sat apart talking together until nearly
midnight. Finally, with a yawn, Zoya suggested that they try to break up
the party. For a little while they looked on. Not understanding the
game of baccarat, Nina watched the faces of the players.

Suddenly she felt uneasy about her uncle, who had taken a place at the
table. Knowing no reason why he should not play, she had thought nothing
of that. But now he was flushed, and seemed very excited. Unconsciously
taking a leaf out of her aunt's book, she laid her hand on his shoulder.
Her touch was, in fact, so like that of his wife that the prince started
violently, and a short while later relinquished his place.

After the prince dropped out of the game Nina still stood watching. The
Countess Kate played as placidly as though she were dealing cards for
"old maid," while her husband reminded Nina of a squirrel sitting up and
nibbling at a nut. Carlo Olisco was excited but not unnatural. Porter
looked gloomy and taciturn. Minotti and Allegro were both tense and
keen, the former arrogant, the latter flushed and excited. John Der