“Can't you see me?” answered Mellin hilariously, entering with Madame de Vaurigard, who was rosy with laughter. “Peculiar thing to look at a man and not see him.”
Candles were lit in many sconces on the walls, and the card-table had been pushed to the centre of the room, little towers of blue, white and scarlet counters arranged upon it in orderly rows like miniature castles.
“Now, then,” demanded Cooley, “are the ladies goin' to play?”
“Never!” cried Madame de Vaurigard.
“All right,” said the youth cheerfully; “you can look on. Come and sit by me for a mascot.”
“You'll need a mascot, my boy!” shouted Pedlow. “That's right, though; take her.”
He pushed a chair close to that in which Cooley had already seated himself, and Madame de Vaurigard dropped into it, laughing. “Mellin, you set there,” he continued, pushing the young man into a seat opposite Cooley. “We'll give both you young fellers a mascot.” He turned to Lady Mount-Rhyswicke, who had gone to the settee by the fire. “Madge, you come and set by Mellin,” he commanded jovially. “Maybe he'll forget you ain't a widow again.”
“I don't believe I care much about bein' anybody's mascot to-night,” she answered. There was a hint of anger in her tired monotone.
“What?” He turned from the table and walked over to the fireplace. “I reckon I didn't understand you,” he said quietly, almost gently. “You better come, hadn't you?”
She met his inscrutable little eyes steadily. A faint redness slowly revealed itself on her powdered cheeks; then she followed him back to the table and took the place he had assigned to her at Mellin's elbow.