While the games were going on, a gentleman passed around with a hat containing small tickets. Each lady took one of these, when the hat was offered her, and then similar tickets were drawn by the gentlemen. Dick saw that his ticket bore the number twenty-three, and he learned from the talk of his fellow players that the lady who had drawn the same number would be his partner at supper and at the dance. Presently an officer began calling out the numbers, a lady declaring herself at each number, and a gentleman offering his arm to lead her out to supper.
"I wonder who has twenty-three," said Dick, indifferently, to Lord George, who had meanwhile rejoined him.
"I can't tell you that," replied his lordship, "but I know who has my number, seventeen. I happened to see her ticket, when she held it up to the light. She is that splendid, dark-eyed creature, standing yonder under the candles."
Dick's glance turned idly towards the indicated place. Suddenly he became afire.
"My lord," he almost gasped, "be my Good Samaritan once again. Exchange tickets with me, for heaven's sake!"
"Why, certainly. That gives me back the uncertainty to which this game entitles me." And the exchange was quickly made.
"Seventeen," was called out, and Dick advanced, with beating heart, to meet Catherine. She colored again—was it with pleasure?—as she took his proffered arm. They walked in silence to the supper-room.
At supper there was more ease and animation than there had been at dinner. This circumstance favored conversation between Dick and his partner.
"I should not have expected to meet you so far from where I saw you last," he began, in a low voice.
"Nor I to meet you," she replied, speaking without haste, and with the gravity that characterized her.