surrounded it.

Deerehurst, following her closely, narrowed his eyes with a touch of
interest as he saw that, either by intention or accident, she had
halted beside Sir Walter Gore.

"Well," he said in his thin, satirical voice, as he gained her
side--"well, shall we combine forces as we did last night? I brought
you luck, remember!"

She turned upon him almost sharply.

"No!" she said--"no! I don't play roulette."

At the vehemence of her denial, he raised his eyebrows; and Sir Walter
Gore looked round. Seeing the speaker, an involuntary gleam of surprise
crossed his face.

"Surely you are not so unfashionable as to disapprove of gambling, Mrs.
Milbanke?" he asked.

Clodagh raised her eyes; and this time her glance was free from
coquetry.

"I have not been fashionably brought up," she said.

"Indeed!"

The surprise--and, with it, a reluctant interest--deepened in Gore's
glance. But his eyes wandered doubtfully over her dress.

Invariably quick to follow a train of thought, she gave a short,
comprehending laugh.

"Oh, I know what you are thinking of!" she cried. "I don't look as if I
belong to the wilds. People never understand that dressing is a knack
that comes to women, and does not really mean anything."

He smiled, amused against his will.

Again she laughed, like a child who has been praised.

"Oh, it's quite true!" she added. "I could tell you of dozens of
cases----"

But her flow of confidence was suddenly terminated. Valentine
Serracauld, catching sight of her through the throng of people, had
made a hasty way towards her. His finely cut colourless face was
animated and his dark grey eyes looked excited.

"How d'you do?--how d'you do, Mrs. Milbanke?" he exclaimed. "Please
congratulate me! I've had a run of luck! Netted seventy pounds!"

Clodagh's lips parted.

"Seventy pounds!" she said breathlessly, and instinctively she turned
to Gore. But Gore's place was empty. At Serracauld's approach, he had
moved unostentatiously away.

At the knowledge that he was gone, a sense of disappointment fell upon
her. She glanced uncertainly at Deerehurst.

The old peer, who had been a cynical observer of the little scene, gave
a thin laugh.

"Our friend Gore is fearful of contamination," he said, glancing at his
nephew.

Serracauld laughed.

"Gore!" he said contemptuously. "Oh, Gore and I never did chum up! But
where have you been hiding yourself all day?" He turned again to
Clodagh. "We hav