ed a
detaining hand over his.

"Wait!" she said. "Let's make it eighty shillings a hundred!"

Deerehurst raised his eyebrows, and the millionaire glanced at her
curiously; while Mrs. Bathurst made a little affected exclamation of
dismay.

"Clodagh, I couldn't! I'm horribly hard up!"

Once again Clodagh laughed shortly.

"Then trust to luck! You're more lucky than I am." Her voice was high,
and charged with excitement; her eyes looked hard and very bright.

Deerehurst's cold glance rested for a moment on her face.

"You really want excitement to-night?" he asked in a low voice.

She threw up her head with a reckless movement.

"Yes; I do want excitement. Rose, will you agree to eighty-shilling
points?"

Mrs. Bathurst allowed her gaze to flutter prettily from one face to
another, until it finally rested upon Mansfeldt's.

"Will you decide, partner!" she said in a confiding whisper.

Mansfeldt looked at her for an instant in slight embarrassment; then he
appeared to regain his stolidity of bearing.

"You may play," he said decisively. And a faint, indescribable smile
flitted across Mrs. Bathurst's lips, as she sank back into her chair.

It was nearly two hours before the steady progress of their play was
interrupted by any remark not directly connected with the game; then,
at the conclusion of the second rubber, Clodagh looked across at
Deerehurst, as if obeying a sudden impulse.

"I bring you bad luck, partner!" she said quickly.

Mrs. Bathurst laughed.

"Unlucky at cards, lucky in love! He won't complain, Clodagh."

Deerehurst smiled calmly.

"Is it well to aver that?" he said. "Look at your own score!"

She laughed again--a laugh of complete satisfaction.

"Ah, but I owe that to my partner's play, not to luck! Shall we lower
the points, Clodagh? You are a horrible loser."

Clodagh's hot cheeks flushed a deeper red.

"Lower the points! I would rather raise them. But aren't we losing
time? Deal, Mr. Mansfeldt, please!" Her excitement was obvious. Her
lips were obstinately set; and her fingers tapped the table in nervous
impatience.

A third rubber was begun and finished; then a fourth, and a fifth; and
very gradually, as the play continued, the sounds throughout the house
became fainter and fewer. At first, the tones of Lady Diana's voice had
floated up from the music-room, and the usual hum of applause had
succeeded, to be followed in its own turn by more music. Song after
song had been sun