“By-the-bye,” he asked, “Flo gave you that message of mine—a message I sent from Seville?”
“About the winner of the Two Thousand? Oh yes; I was duly humiliated. How could I have erred in a matter of such moment?”
“You remember—there was a wager.”
“Was there?”
“Certainly. You have not forgotten the terms?”
Isabel held her fan by its two ends, and, as if to recollect, pressed it across her forehead. There was a terrible throbbing there; the cool ivory was very pleasant.
“I must claim payment,” Lord Winterset pursued playfully, whilst he glanced about him to see that neighbours were minding their business. “You remember it was to be anything I chose to ask for.”
“Lord Winterset! How foolish! There was really no wager at all; that was a mere joke, a piece of nonsense.”
“Indeed, I did not regard it as anything of the kind,” he continued imperturbably, still fingering his seals. “I knew perfectly well that I should win, and I knew just as well what payment I should beg for.”
Her beautifully gloved hand rested on its open palm by her side; there was pressure on it, the nerves were strung. She gazed straight before her and saw nothing.