“You know perfectly well, Fifi,” Eunice was saying, “that your little bridge games are quite big enough to be called a violation of the law—you know that such stakes as you people play for—”
“It isn’t the size of the stake that makes gambling!” Fifi Desternay cried, shrilly; “I’ve had the advice of a lawyer, and he says that as long as it’s my own home and the players are invited guests, there’s no possibility of being—”
“Raided!” said Eunice, scathingly. “Might as well call things by their real name!”
“Hush up! Some of the servants might hear you! How unkind you are to me, Eunice. You used to love your little Fifi!”
“Well, she doesn’t now!” said Miss Ames, tartly, as she came in. “You see, Mrs. Desternay, you have been instrumental in bringing our dear Eunice under a dreadful, and absolutely unfounded suspicion—”
“Dreadful, but far from unfounded!” declared Mrs. Desternay, her little hands uplifted, and her pretty face showing a scornful smile. “You and I, Aunt Abby, know what our dear Eunice’s temper is—”
“Don’t you ‘Aunt Abby’ me, you good-for-nothing little piece! I am surprised Eunice allows you in this house!”
“Now, now—if Eunice doesn’t want me, I’ll get out—and jolly well glad to do so! How about it, Eunice? I came here to help, but if I’m not wanted—out goes little Fifi!”
She rose, shaking her fur stole into place about her dainty person, and, whipping out a tiny mirror from her vanity case, she applied a rouge stick to her already scarlet lips.
“No—no—” and Eunice wailed despairingly. “Don’t go, Fifi, I—oh, I don’t know how I feel toward you! You see—I will speak plainly—you see, it was my acquaintance with you that caused the trouble—mostly—between me and San.”