"I thought I might find you here," he continued, looking at Ruby with a familiar smile and giving a nervous twirl to his black moustache when she did not take his hand. "I saw you both at the races, but I couldn't get near you for the crowd. Thought I would look in and see how Rupert had done. I bet he came a nasty cropper over that disqualification. Can't say you're looking exactly jolly."
Ruby stepped back and forced a smile to her lips.
"Oh, we're all right!" she said unsteadily, commencing to fold up the slip of paper she had been holding in her hand behind her back. "We won."
Despard raised his eyebrows and gave a dry laugh. "I don't think! Rupert told me he plunged, on Paulus. As a matter of fact, I came round to condole with him. I knew he was pretty hard hit and all that sort of thing."
"Well, you are wrong! He doesn't want your sympathy, as it happens."
Ruby spoke almost defiantly. The colour had returned to her cheeks now. They were scarlet and her eyes were bright. There was defiance in them, too.
Despard watched her closely, and the expression on his face gradually changed. A cynical smile still played about his lips.
"You're a loyal little devil!" he said between his teeth. "By gad! I admire you for it. But let me tell you that poor old Rupert Dale is ruined. Broke to the world, and he's failed in his final, too. I'm awfully sorry for him—and all that, but there you are."
"Yes, you sound as if you were sorry," Ruby replied sarcastically. She commenced to pull on one of her gloves, then slipped the strip of folded paper underneath the glove into the palm of her hand. Despard was watching her with his small, bright eyes.
"Is that your winnings you're hiding away?" he sneered.