She looks at herself in the glass, and a flush of triumph rises to her cheek. She looks supremely handsome in a dress of black satin, with judicious touches of white lace and white flowers; and as she sweeps into her rooms and sees Keith's involuntary glance of admiration, she feels a little thrill of triumph.
As the evening goes on, as her guests assemble, she contrives that Keith Athelstone should be always by her side, and though the scowling face of Count Karolyski is frequently turned towards her, she is by no means intimidated. He and Keith are mutually antagonistic to each other, and to-night the Count's manner is almost insulting.
Again, the question of play is mooted, and again he taunts Keith with his care of his dollars. The evening is very warm, and the young fellow has drunk more wine than he usually does, and Lady Jean has taken care that it is wine both strong and exciting.
At the Count's veiled sneers he loses his temper—never a very forbearing one—and, forgetful of promises and resolutions, sits down at the table.
The stakes grow higher; he is winning fast. Again and again he is victor and again and again does the money of the Count flow into his keeping. Lady Jean comes near him and leans against his chair. Her perfumed hair almost sweeps his cheek. As he glances up he meets all the dark intensity and lustre of her eyes.
"You are wonderfully fortunate in—everything," she says, smiling; and the Count glances up and crushes back an oath between his set teeth. Then quite suddenly, and with the most serene innocence, Lady Jean stoops and picks up a card by Keith's side. "You have dropped this," she says, and lays it on the table.
"The ace of spades—you have already played that, monsieur!" says Count Karolyski.
"It cannot be mine, then," says Keith quietly.
The Count throws his cards contemptuously on the table.
"Monsieur's luck may be wonderful, but with double aces in his hand it is not so remarkable after all!"