“Oh, yes; do,” added Lady Hadley-Barton, “I love to hear of the wicked doings of those soldiers. In fact, as I told Major Packenham, of the Tenth, the wickeder the soldier the more I seem to worship him.”
“I trust he took you—figuratively,” remarked the Countess.
“Quite so; quite so,” Lady Hadley-Barton hastened to respond.
“Pray proceed,” urged Baroness Maquehaye.
“Well,” continued the Countess Brooke, “the bank which had been bid up into the thousands was finally awarded to the highest bidder—Captain Stanley Mortimer.”
Dorothy Brandon stirred slightly in her seat and her pink-and-white ear veered slightly around in the direction of the narrator.
“The Captain threw down on the table the sum representing the capital of the bank and took his seat in the banker’s chair.”
Again the Countess paused, as if seeking to recall the full details of her story.
“Yes, yes,” exclaimed Baroness Maquehaye, “and then——?”
“I can imagine the scene,” declared Lady Hadley-Barton impulsively; “the green table, the stacks of money, the high players. How I wish I had been there. How much we women miss! I have so often wished I wore trousers. Of course, you will take me figuratively.”