“Well, it’s very interesting,” said a portly gentleman in claret velvet, “but the game, Lethbridge, the game!”
“The game,” bowed his lordship, and sent a glance round at the cards on the table.
Lady Massey, who had won the couch, suddenly put out her hand and nicked the corner of the Queen that lay before her. “Paroli!” she said in a quick, unsteady voice.
Lethbridge turned up two cards, and sent her a mocking look. “Ace wins, Queen loses,” he said. “Your luck is quite out, my lady.”
She gave a little laugh. “I assure you I don’t regard it. Lose tonight, win tomorrow. It goes up and down.”
The game proceeded. It was not until later when the company stood about in little chatting groups, partaking of very excellent refreshments, that Rule’s betrothal was remembered. It was Lady Amelia, rolling up to Lethbridge, with a glass of hot negus in one hand and a sweet biscuit in the other, who said in her downright way: “You’re a dog, Lethbridge. What possessed you to hop out with that, man?”
“Why not?” said his lordship coolly. “I thought you would all be interested.”
Lady Amelia finished her negus, and looked across the room towards her hostess. “Diverting,” she commented. “Did she think to get Rule?”
Lethbridge shrugged. “Why do you ask me? I’m not in the lady’s confidence.”
“H’m! You’ve a trick of knowing things, Lethbridge. Silly creature. Rule’s not such a fool.” Her cynical eye wandered in search of Mr Drelincourt, and presently found him, standing apart, and pulling at his underlip. She chuckled. “Took it badly, eh?”