Lady Diana's expression changed, betraying a leaven of disappointment.

"Bridge?" she repeated. "Do you think you are quite wise? Remember your headache!"

Clodagh gave a short, excited laugh.

"Ah, you are not a bridge-player, Lady Diana! If you were, you would know that bridge is a cure for all the ills of humanity. Here comes Lord Deerehurst with two accomplices! Fancy, it is the first time I have met the rich Mr. Mansfeldt!"

Lady Diana was silent. She looked once more at Clodagh--a rapid, penetrating look that might have belonged to her sister. Then she compelled herself to smile.

"I hope your game will be a good one," she said graciously; and moving quietly away, she rejoined her husband.

Almost at the same moment Deerehurst approached, followed at some little distance by Mrs. Bathurst and Mansfeldt--a South African millionaire, who had recently found his way into society.

"Rose is making the running," he remarked in a maliciously amused whisper. "She asked me before dinner exactly what Mansfeldt is worth.

Ah, here you are, Mansfeldt!" he added aloud. "Allow me to present you to Mrs. Milbanke! Mrs. Milbanke, will you show us the way to the card-room? I hear you are the spoiled child of the house!"

Clodagh bowed to Mansfeldt; and responding at once to Deerehurst's suggestion, led the way across the hall.

The card-room at Tuffnell was the only room in the big, rambling house that had not preserved an air of old-world repose; here alone, the artistic decorator had been allowed to encroach upon the handiwork of time; and the result, although comfortable and even luxurious, was modern and slightly bizarre. An Oriental carpet, a few divans and coffee stools, half a dozen chairs, and three or four baize-covered tables comprised the somewhat conventional furniture; while the walls were covered in fabric of bright scarlet and decorated with a peculiar and extravagant frieze representing the fifty-two cards of the pack. As Clodagh entered, an irrepressible recollection of London--of the clubs--the card-rooms--the smoking-rooms of London--where men and women idle away their lives and their money, rose to her mind, banishing the pictures of country peace that the last twelve hours had conjured.

Pausing by one of the tables, she looked back at her three companions.

"Let's cut for partners!" she cried quickly, picking up an unused pack of cards. "See! I've cut a ten!"

Mrs. Bathurst came languidly forward and raised a portion of the pack.

"A three!" she said. "Now Mr. Mansfeldt, and Lord Deerehurst!" She looked with graceful interest towards the men.

Deerehurst cut a four; then the millionaire followed with a two.

Her face flushed with pleasure.

"How strange!" she murmured. "Do you mind having a very stupid partner, Mr. Mansfeldt?" Her large brown eyes rested on the rich man's face, exactly as they had rested upon Deerehurst's in the days at Venice.

Observing and comprehending this, by the light of recent knowledge, Clodagh gave a sharp, amused laugh.

"I think every one is satisfied, Rose," she said. "Now, about points!

Lord Deerehurst, what points?"

Deerehurst bowed complacently.

"What you like, partner! Our usual forty shillings a hundred?"

"Or twenty shillings a hundred?" suggested Mrs. Bathurst with a deprecating smile at Mansfeldt.

Again Clodagh laughed.

"You are getting very modest, Rose! Do you remember the last time we were opponents at bridge? But I won't tell tales out of school!"

Mrs. Bathurst looked annoyed.

"Would it be quite wise----?" she asked sharply.

But Deerehurst intervened.

"Well," he said, "shall we decide on forty-shilling points? Mr.

Mansfeldt, do you agree?"

Mansfeldt, who was an intensely reserved and silent man, looked up unemotionally.

"I am in your hands," he said; and following the example already set by Clodagh and Mrs. Bathurst, he seated himself at the card-table.

"Very well! Forty-shilling points." Deerehurst also seated himself, and began to collect the scattered cards.

But with a swift gesture, Clodagh leant across the table and placed a detaining hand over his.

"Wait!" she said. "Let's make it eighty shillings a hundred!"

Deerehurst raised his eyebrows, and the millionaire glanced at her curiously; while Mrs. Bathurst made a little affected exclamation of dismay.

"Clodagh, I couldn't! I'm horribly hard up!"

Once again Clodagh laughed shortly.

"Then trust to luck! You're more lucky than I am." Her voice was high, and charged with excitement; her eyes looked hard and very bright.

Deerehurst's cold glance rested for a moment on her face.

"You really want excitement to-night?" he asked in a low voice.

She threw up her head with a reckless movement.

"Yes; I do want excitement. Rose, will you agree to eighty-shilling points?"

Mrs. Bathurst allowed her gaze to flutter prettily from one face to another, until it finally rested upon Mansfeldt's.

"Will you decide, partner!" she said in a confiding whisper.

Mansfeldt looked at her for an instant in slight embarra.s.sment; then he appeared to regain his stolidity of bearing.

"You may play," he said decisively. And a faint, indescribable smile flitted across Mrs. Bathurst's lips, as she sank back into her chair.

It was nearly two hours before the steady progress of their play was interrupted by any remark not directly connected with the game; then, at the conclusion of the second rubber, Clodagh looked across at Deerehurst, as if obeying a sudden impulse.

"I bring you bad luck, partner!" she said quickly.

Mrs. Bathurst laughed.