"Some people believe a dog does deserve consideration, Lord Chesby," said a feminine voice behind us.
We turned to face Hélène de Cespedes. The Countess Sandra Vassilievna was with her. Maude Hilyer, her face as ghastly as her husband's, was hurrying away from them.
"You may be enemies, but why should you make a woman cry?" added the Russian girl. "She will be unhappy for the rest of the day."
"I'm very sorry," answered Hugh stiffly, "but do you sincerely believe that her husband is entitled to insult me in public?"
"It was a rotten thing he said," admitted Hélène frankly. "And of course, he is a rotter. But as I told you boys once, they are a queer pair, and Maudey—well, she really thinks that if they ever get to a state of affluence, they can both turn around and live straight. It's damned silly, but—do you believe in fairies? Those who don't, generally envy those who do."
"We don't believe in fairies," I answered good-temperedly, "and we also don't believe in letting a man who is a thief get away with a gratuitous insult."
"Oh, you're right," said Sandra Vassilievna impartially, "from your own point of view. But I'm going up to tell Maudey that she'll only ruin her complexion if she weeps for what an offensively honest man says to her."
Hélène laughed as the Russian walked off.
"Women are almost as funny as men, aren't they?" she said. "Oh, say, before I forget it, Mr. Nash, you want to look out for that girl's brother. You slammed him one or two in that fight at Chesby, and he's had it in for you ever since. And after last night, all the men are wild. If that Gypsy Tokalji catches you—phew! Oh, boy! And Toutou!"
"They weren't able to catch us last night," returned Nikka. "They aren't likely to have as good a chance again."