“I fancy you did know, Kitten,” he said shrewdly. “It ain’t like you not to tell me what tricks you’ve been playing.”
She hung her head. “Well, I — well, I did not feel quite comfortable,” she confessed. “But that was mostly because I feared you would be cross with me for going to that house, and gaming for such high stakes.”
“So I am,” he said. “What were the stakes?”
“F-fifty pounds, Sherry,” she whispered.
He gave a whistle. “Were they, by God! What’s the figure?” He glanced down at the bowed head. “Come along, brat! I won’t eat you!”
“Oh, Sherry, I lost over five thousand pounds!” Hero blurted out.
His lordship preserved his control over himself with a strong effort. After a moment of inward struggle, he said: “Drawing the bustle with a vengeance, weren’t you? No, don’t cry! It might have been worse. But what possessed you, you little simpleton, to throw good money after bad? For I know very well you went a second night to that curst hell! Had you no more sense than to allow yourself to be plucked again? Good God! is gaming in your blood?”
“Oh, no, no, I am sure it is not, for I was never more uncomfortable in my life! Indeed, I wish I had not gone back, but I did it for the best, Sherry, and truly I thought you would have told me to if I could but have asked you!”
“Thought I — thought I — ?” gasped his lordship. “Have you gone mad, Hero?”
“But Sherry, you told me yourself, when your uncle Prosper had been teasing you, that the only thing to be done was to continue playing, because a run of bad luck could not last for ever, and — ” She broke off, alarmed by the expression on his face. “Oh, what have I said?” she cried.