“It seems to me——” he began. But she interrupted him at once.
“I know I ought to be called a beggar on horseback, because I really have ridden rather—rather fast this winter——”
“Two thousand?” he questioned.
“No, Mort, you see, it isn’t only the dresses and the hats. I’m afraid I’ve been losing more than I should have lost at auction.”
“Bridge!” he said, pitilessly, “I thought——”
“Yes—bub—bridge.”
“I thought my warning might be sufficient. I’m sorry——”
“So am I,” she whispered, her head lowered, now thoroughly abased. “I am not going to play any more.”
“How much—three thousand?” he asked again.