"Not when it's got into his blood," said Minnie.
"It's in his right enough," rejoined Ian. He gambled, too, but with circumspection, unhampered by passion.
"I wonder what he sees in Vanda," the Countess mused.
"She's a charming girl," remarked Minnie.
Ian went out, his setters following him. An hour later he sought the two women with another telegram, finding them in the rose garden. The Countess walked with a stick, though she was only sixty. Her hair was perfectly white and her face much lined. Perhaps her youth, so full of interests and emotions, had faded too soon. But she looked the great lady she was, queen of herself and fit to rule Ruvno, with its traditions, its wealth and dignity.
"Here's Joseph now," he announced. "Wants to be met at the afternoon train from Warsaw."
"Which Joseph?" asked Minnie. "You know a dozen."
"Roman's brother."
"What does he want?" asked the Countess.
"Vanda," he returned, a twinkle in his eye.