Mirelle slipped quickly from her couch, and came across to him, laying one long, snake-like arm round his neck.
"You are foolish, Dereek," she murmured. "You are very foolish. You are beau garçon, and I adore you, but I am not made to be poor—no, decidedly I am not made to be poor. Now listen to me; everything is very simple. You must make it up with your wife."
"I am afraid that's not going to be actually in the sphere of practical politics," said Derek drily.
"How do you say? I do not understand."
"Van Aldin, my dear, is not taking any. He is the kind of man who makes up his mind and sticks to it."
"I have heard of him," nodded the dancer. "He is very rich, is he not? Almost the richest man in America. A few days ago, in Paris, he bought the most wonderful ruby in the world—'Heart of Fire' it is called."
Kettering did not answer. The dancer went on musingly:
"It is a wonderful stone—a stone that should belong to a woman like me. I love jewels, Dereek; they say something to me. Ah! to wear a ruby like 'Heart of Fire.'"
She gave a little sigh, and then became practical once more.
"You don't understand these things, Dereek; you are only a man. Van Aldin will give these rubies to his daughter, I suppose. Is she his only child?"