"I slept out on the yacht last night," he said. "Got up at six o'clock and had a swim. What about a round of golf at La Turbie? We can get down again by luncheon-time, before the people are about."
"Afraid I can't," Hunterleys replied. "I have rather an important letter to go through carefully, and a reply to think out."
"You're a queer chap, you know," Richard went on. "You always seem to have something on but I'm hanged if I can see how you pass your time here in Monte Carlo. This political business, even if you do have to put in a bit of time at it now and then, can't be going on all the while. Monte Carlo, too! So far as the women are concerned, they might as well be off the face of the earth, and I don't think I've ever seen you make a bet at the tables. How did your wife do last night? I thought she seemed to be dropping it rather."
"I think that she lost," Hunterleys replied indifferently. "Her gambling, however, is like mine, I imagine, on a fairly negligible scale."
Richard whistled softly.
"Well, I don't know," he observed. "I saw her going for maximums yesterday pretty steadily. A few thousands doesn't last very long at that little game."
Hunterleys smiled.
"A few thousands!" he repeated. "I don't suppose Violet has ever lost or won a hundred pounds in her life."
Richard abandoned the subject quickly. He was obliged to tell himself that it was not his business to interfere between husband and wife.
"Say, Hunterleys," he suggested, "do you think I could do something for the crowd on my little boat—a luncheon party or a cruise, eh?"