"Beaten!—beaten!—by a hair. But you're wonderful, Miss Fox-Wilton. I never found anybody near so good as you at it before, except a man I met once at Newmarket—Philip Meryon—do you know him? Never saw a fellow so good at games. But an awfully queer fish!"
It seemed to the morbid sensitiveness of Rose that there was an instantaneous and a thrilling silence. Hester tossed her head; her colour, after the first start, ebbed away; she grew pale.
"Yes, I do know him. Why is he a queer fish? You only say that because he beat you!"
The young man gave a half-laugh, and looked at his friends. Then he changed the subject. But Hester got up impatiently from her seat, and would not play any more. Rose caught the sudden intentness with which Alice Puttenham's eyes pursued her.
Stephen Barron came to the help of his hostess, and started more games.
Rose was grateful to him—and quite intolerably sorry for him.
"But why was I obliged to shake hands with the other brother?" she thought rebelliously, as she watched the disagreeable face of Maurice Barron, who had been standing in the circle not far from Hester. He had a look of bad company which displeased her; and she resented what seemed to her an inclination to stare at the pretty women—especially at Hester, and Miss Puttenham. Heavens!—if that odious father had betrayed anything to such a son! Surely, surely it was inconceivable!
The party was beginning to thin when Meynell, impatient to be quit of his Cabinet Minister that he might find Mary Elsmere before it was too late, hurried from the green drawing-room, in the wake of Mr. Norham, and stumbled against a young man, who in the very imperfect illumination had not perceived the second figure behind the Home Secretary.
"Hullo!" said Meynell brusquely, stepping back. "How do you do? Is
Stephen here?"
Maurice Barron answered in the affirmative—and added, as though from the need to say something, no matter what:
"I hear there are some coins to be seen in there?"