'I think, my dear—' he said.
'Going to have a dash at the petits chevaux?' inquired Mr Vince. 'I was there just now. I have an infallible system.'
Mr Warden started like a war-horse at the sound of the trumpet.
'Only it's infallible the wrong way,' went on the young man. 'Well, I wish you luck. I'll see Miss Warden home.'
'Please don't trouble,' said Ruth, in the haughty manner which had frequently withered unfortunate fellow-exiles in their tracks.
It had no such effect on Mr Vince.
'I shall like it,' he said.
Ruth set her teeth. She would see whether he would like it.
They left Mr Warden, who shot in at the casino door like a homing rabbit, and walked on in silence, which lasted till Ruth, suddenly becoming aware that her companion's eyes were fixed on her face, turned her head, to meet a gaze of complete, not to say loving, admiration. She flushed. She was accustomed to being looked at admiringly, but about this particular look there was a subtle quality that distinguished it from the ordinary—something proprietorial.
Mr Vince appeared to be a young man who wasted no time on conventional conversation-openings.