with your father for high stakes, and I am ashamed to say that I
won a large sum of money."

For an instant the brightness left her glance; she looked at him with
the serious eyes of the night before.

"Much?" she asked impulsively.

"Twenty pounds." Milbanke felt himself colour. Then he rallied his
courage. "But that isn't all," he added quickly. "I have something
worse to confess. When I came down to breakfast this morning I found a
cheque lying on my plate. I felt intensely remorseful, as you can
imagine; and determined to make reparation. After breakfast I broached
the subject to Denis; I begged him to allow me to cancel our play by
tearing up the cheque. He was furiously angry; and I, instead of
showing the courage of my opinion, was actually weak enough to succumb.
Now, what punishment do you think I deserve?" He paused, looking at her
anxiously.

For a while she looked steadily ahead, absorbed in her own thoughts;
then slowly she looked back at him with interested, incredulous eyes.

"Don't English people pay when they lose?" she asked after a long
pause.

Again he coloured.

"Why, yes," he said hurriedly. "Yes, of course, only----"

"Only what?"

"Nothing--nothing. It was only that I thought you wanted----"

"I wanted you not to encourage him. I never wanted you to think that he
isn't a gentleman."

She made the statement with perfect naturalness, as though the subject
was one of common, everyday discussion. According to her code of
honour, she was justified in putting every possible bar to her father's
weakness; but where the bar had proved useless, where the weakness had
conquered and the deed she disapproved of had been accomplished, then
the matter, to her thinking, had passed out of her hands. Her judgment
ceased to be individual and became the judgment of her race.

As she looked at Milbanke's perplexed, concerned face, her expression
changed, and she smiled. The smile was gracious and reassuring, but
below the graciousness lay a tinge of tolerant indulgence.

"We won't talk about it any more," she said. "I don't suppose you can
be expected to understand." And suddenly raising her head, she whistled
to the dogs.

During the remainder of the walk Milbanke was very silent. Perplexed
and yet fascinated by the problem, his mind dwelt unceasingly upon this
strange position into which the chances of a day or two had thrown him.
The bonds that drew him to his entertainers, and the gulf that
se