All this time Zoe had been looking at him with concern, and even with admiration. He seemed more beautiful than ever, to her, under the influence of passion, and more of a man. “Mr. Severne,” said she, “be calm. Fanny has misled you, without intending it. She did not hear all that passed between those two; I did. The velveteen and neck-tie man refused to bet with your money. It was Mademoiselle Klosking who bet, and with her own money. She took twenty-five pounds of her own, and twenty-five pounds of yours, and won two or three hundred in a few moments. Surely, as a gentleman, you cannot ask a lady to do more than repay you your twenty-five pounds.” Severne was a little cowed by Zoe' s interference. He stood his ground; but sullenly, instead of violently. “Miss Vizard, if I were weak enough to trust a lady with my money at a gambling table, I should expect foul play; for I never knew a lady yet who would not cheat _at cards,_ if she could. I trusted my money to a tradesman to bet with. If he takes a female partner, that is no business of mine; he is responsible all the same, and I'll have my money.” He jumped up at the word, and looked out at the window; he even fumbled with the door, and tried to open it. “You had better jump out,” said Fanny. “And then they would keep my money for good. No;” said he, “I'll wait for the nearest station.” He sunk back into his seat, looking unutterable things. Fanny looked rather rueful at first; then she said, spitefully, “You must be very sure of your influence with your old sweetheart. You forget she has got another now--a tradesman, too. He will stick to the money, and make her stick to it. Their sending the fifty pounds shows that.” Zoe's eyes were on him with microscopic power, and, with all his self-command, she saw him wince and change color, and give other signs that this shaft had told in many ways. He shut his countenance the next moment; but it had opened, and Zoe was on fire with jealousy and suspicion. Fluctuating Fanny regretted the turn things had taken. She did not want to lose a pleasant male companion, and she felt sure Zoe would be unhappy, and cross to her, if he went. “Surely, Mr. Severne,” she said, “you will not desert us and go back for so small a chance. Why, we are a hundred and fifty miles from Homburg, and all the nearer to dear old England. There, there--we must be kinder to you, and make you forget this misfortune.” Thus spoke the trimmer. The reply took her by surprise.