Joyselle caught her hand in his, and gave a great laugh.
"Oh, mes enfants, mes enfants," he cried. "When lovers disagree, who is to decide but—chance? Come, Théo, your chances shall be the same as hers. Heads you win, tails you lose. Agreed?"
Staggering back into the light, his face flushed, his teeth flashing in a broad smile, he took a sixpence from his pocket. "You both agree?"
Théo nodded in silence and Brigit answered simply "Yes."
The coin shot from the violinist's thumb-nail, flew up into the air and was caught on his palm, his left hand covering it.
"Heads, then, a June wedding. Tails, then mees has her way, and the event is put off till autumn? Right?"
"Yes."
Théo had turned away, and Brigit was free to look full into Joyselle's face. It was a wonderful face in its absolute oneness of expression. There were no complications, no remorse, nothing but wild and fierce love of gambling, and hope that the woman he loved should remain free a little longer.
"It is—tails."
Théo walked into the ballroom without a word, and Brigit found herself close in his father's arms for a wild moment. "We have won, mon adorée, mon adorée," he murmured. "Thank God!"