"Do you not see?" he said. "'Fear both fire and frost and rain,' runs the rhyme. But think what the cup is called: it is the Luck of the Vails, and the Vails are—well, they are I and my uncle at least. Ah! I forget one more thing. Only two days ago my uncle found the key of its case. It was locked when I found it; it had to be broken open. Well, I fell into the fire; I caught a chill in the rain; I sprained my ankle, owing to the frost. I have paid the penalties of the Luck. Now, don't you see I am waiting for the Luck itself? Indeed, perhaps it has begun," he added.
"How so?" asked the girl with security, for she knew he was not the kind of man to pay inane compliments.
"Since I found it, I have begun to become human," he said gravely. "Indeed, six months ago I had no friend in the world except Geoffrey."
"What's that about me?" asked Geoffrey, who was playing piquet with Lady Oxted.
"I was only saying you weren't such a brute as you appeared," said Harry, without looking round; "I'm a true friend, Geoff." Then, dropping his voice again, "Then, on the finding of the Luck, I became—oh, I don't know what I became—what I am, anyhow!"
He leaned back again in his chair, blushing a little at his own unpremeditated burst of egotism.
"Of course, soberly, and in the light of 9 a.m., I don't believe in it," he continued. "But my having those three little accidents was a very curious coincidence, following as they did on the heels of my finding the Luck. Anyhow, it pleases me to think that there may be one coincidence more—that those three little bits of bad luck will be followed by a piece of very good luck. That is my private joy—the thought of some great, good thing happening to me. And then, oh, then, won't I just take the Luck, and stamp on it, and throw the rent pieces to the four winds of heaven!"
There was a moment's silence as his voice, slightly raised, gave out the blindly spoken words, which had yet a certain ring of truth about them. But as soon as they were spoken Evie's mood changed.
"Oh, you mustn't!" she cried; "you could not bring yourself to destroy such a lovely thing. Those stars of emeralds, those clear-set diamond handles, oh! it makes my mouth water to think of them. I love jewels!"
Lady Oxted at this point was deep in the heavily swollen waters of Rubicon, and her tone was of ill-suppressed acidity.