Lily laughed nervously. “I have never known anyone pay so many compliments as you do, Beppo! If any of my old friends heard the things you sometimes say they would think you were making fun of me——”
“They would be fools! You do look beautiful to-night—so beautiful that I am not going to risk my luck at the tables. I should be sure to win, and if I won I should be in despair!”
Of course Lily knew that Beppo meant to imply that the gambler who is lucky at play is unlucky in love. Again she laughed nervously, but in spite of herself she felt that there was something alluring in her companion’s deep voice and absorbed ardent gaze.
“I can think of many good reasons why you should not play, Beppo!”
She uttered the simple words coquettishly, and Angus Stuart bit his lips. This was a side of Lily Fairfield he had not known was there, and a sudden, passionate wave of anger and disgust swept over him. But instead of moving away, as he would have been wise to do, he moved just a little nearer to the tall, distinguished-looking foreigner and the fair, flushed, English girl, whose delicate beauty was certainly set off to great advantage by her pale grey gown and quaint-looking evening cloak.
The young Scotsman heard Beppo Polda say in a very low voice: “You know that from to-morrow I stay at La Solitude?”
“I’m glad of that,” Lily said smiling.
“Is that really true? Your words make me so happy—happier than you know, Lily!”
Beppo was gazing down eagerly into her face, and Angus Stuart felt a wild impulse come over him—if only he could knock the fellow down.
“I’m glad you’re coming to La Solitude, because I know it will please Aunt Cosy. You know that I have always thought it unkind of you to have gone to the Hidalgo Hotel when she was expecting you to stay with her,” and this time Lily spoke quite seriously.