"Then," said the old man, with beautiful irony, "you should be a foeman worthy of my steel."
They sat down. But the young lady did not seem easy.
"Is it not too late to play to-night? I am already guilty of detaining Mr Davison."
Mr Davison repudiated the idea with scorn.
"Too late! Why, sometimes I sit up playing cards the whole night long."
"After that," murmured the old man softly, "what has one left to say?"
They played, if not all night, at least until the tints of dawn were brightening the sky. The stakes were trifling, but, even so, if one never wins, one may lose--in time. When Mr Davison rose to go he had lost all his ready money and seventeen pounds besides. This he was to bring to-morrow, when he was to have his revenge.
Mdlle. de Fontanes let him out. In the hall, before she opened the door, she spoke to him.
"I wish you would promise me not to play with my father again."
"Promise you! But why?"