he won considerably, to his own displeasure, and she did not. Over and over again, when the current of chance ran for her, she lost it, either listlessly, with that careless scornful weariness peculiar to her, or with a recklessness that made her throw large sums away while she laughed over a bonmot. Two hours passed rapidly in the whirl of the game, leaving him winner of some heavy sums. Her eyes rested on him a moment, on the dark soldier-like grandeur of his head, which the rich colours and light of the room behind him threw up, as a noble Spanish head by Murillo might be thrown up on an illuminated background of gold and scarlet; then, at a slight pause in the game, she rose, sweeping her laces about her.
"Play on by yourselves, mes amis, as long as you will. I am constant to nothing—the privilege of a woman!—and I shall take a cup of coffee."
They all rose, as of course she knew that they would, and gathered about her, while two Nubians brought round trays of Mocha and bonbons. It had been her caprice that Erceldoune should be a gainer by the baccarat, and she had secured her point without any semblance of effort. The expression used by more than one to her concerning him, had impressed her with the idea that
