"'It hass my orphanage ruined,' she told me last time."
After dinner they played bridge. Denise forgot her fears a little, though her luck was against her; she could not hold a card.
"How I hate paying you, Cyrrie," she said, laughing, as she took gold from her purse.
"Women always hate the day of reckoning." Something in his quiet voice made her heart thump. "The game is full of excitement, but it must end—and your sex dislikes the ending."
The guests went on to a big dance; the Blakeneys were left alone; they were not going out.
Quite quietly Sir Cyril came across to his wife, stood looking at her.
"A lovely gown," he said. "But—do you need new jewels, Denise?"
His fingers, big, strong, deft, fell on the pink pearl, undid the fastening.
Denise turned pale, stood stammering, seeking excuse.
"Don't bother," he said smoothly. "I saw the boy give it you. You've been foolish there, Denise—foolish. Well, I'm off for months, and when I come back—"