“Is that it?” she asked, coolly pointing.
He pounced upon the withered sprig and kissed it, and rising stood looking at her.
“But,” he said, and a daring smile played about his mouth; he took a step nearer, “but some marriages are made—in heaven.”
“And others—” Lady Clancarty pointed downward with a wicked smile.
“Ah,” he answered, “those are of earth, earthy; but when love steps in, then, my lady, then—”
“There comes my Lord Savile,” she said, and smiled sweetly.
“Damn him!” he muttered beneath his breath.
The door opened to admit Lord Savile and Mr. Benham, and her greeting was cordiality itself.
“Here’s a gentleman who has staked all his fortune on his gray mare and lost it!” Mr. Benham said, his hand on Savile’s shoulder, “and he has done nothing but weep for it.”
“Saint Thomas!” exclaimed that nobleman, “I’m not the first to stake all on a woman and lose.”