Mansfeldt looked at her for an instant in slight embarrassment; then he appeared to regain his stolidity of bearing.
"You may play," he said decisively. And a faint, indescribable smile flitted across Mrs. Bathurst's lips, as she sank back into her chair.
It was nearly two hours before the steady progress of their play was interrupted by any remark not directly connected with the game; then, at the conclusion of the second rubber, Clodagh looked across at Deerehurst, as if obeying a sudden impulse.
"I bring you bad luck, partner!" she said quickly.
Mrs. Bathurst laughed.
"Unlucky at cards, lucky in love! He won't complain, Clodagh."
Deerehurst smiled calmly.
"Is it well to aver that?" he said. "Look at your own score!"
She laughed again—a laugh of complete satisfaction.
"Ah, but I owe that to my partner's play, not to luck! Shall we lower the points, Clodagh? You are a horrible loser."