"'Tis a simple round game," said Sir Marmaduke lightly, "you would soon learn."
"And . . ." said Lambert diffidently questioning, and eying the gold and silver which lay in profusion on the table, "there is no money at stake . . . of course? . . ."
"Oh! only a little," rejoined Mistress Endicott, "a paltry trifle . . . to add zest to the enjoyment of the game."
"However little it may be, Sir Marmaduke," said Lambert firmly, speaking directly to his employer, "I humbly pray you to excuse me before these gentlemen . . ."
The three players at the table, as well as the two Endicotts, had listened to this colloquy with varying feelings. Segrave was burning with impatience, Lord Walterton was getting more and more fractious, whilst Sir Michael Isherwood viewed the young secretary with marked hauteur. At the last words spoken by Lambert there came from all these gentlemen sundry ejaculations, expressive of contempt or annoyance, which caused an ugly frown to appear between de Chavasse's eyes, and a deep blush to rise in the young man's pale cheek.
"What do you mean?" queried Sir Marmaduke harshly.
"There are other gentlemen here," said Lambert, speaking with more firmness and decision now that he encountered inimical glances and felt as if somehow he was on his trial before all these people, "and I am not rich enough to afford the luxury of gambling."
"Nay! if that is your difficulty," rejoined Sir Marmaduke, "I pray you, good master, to command my purse . . . you are under my wing to-night . . . and I will gladly bear the burden of your losses."
"I thank you, Sir Marmaduke," said the young man, with quiet dignity," and I entreat you once again to excuse me. . . . I have never staked at cards, either mine own money or that of others. I would prefer not to begin."
"Meseems . . . hic . . . de Chavasse, that this . . . this young friend of yours is a hic . . . damned Puritan . . ." came in ever thickening accents from Lord Walterton.