The sudden change of tone occurred as Anna advanced into the light and seated herself in the bow-window overlooking the rose garden. She wore a delicate skirt of pink satin below a superb gown of chiffon and real lace. A single pink rose decorated her fine black hair which she had coiled upon her neck to betray a shapely contour of dazzlingly white skin beneath it. Her jewels were few but remarkable. The pearls about her neck had been called bronze in tint and were perfect in their shape. She carried a diamond bracelet upon her right arm, and its glitter flashed about her as a radiant spirit of the riches whose emblems she wore. The pallor of her face was in keeping with the picture. The wild black eyes seemed alight with all the fires of tragedy unconfessed. "I am not ill, father," she said, "but there is something about which I must speak to you." "Yes, yes, Anna--of course. And this is neither Paquin nor Worth, it appears. Oh, you little rogue. To come to me like this--to come to your poor old father and bring him a son-in-law for dinner. Ha, ha,--I'll remember that--a son-in-law to dinner. Well, I sha'n't eat him, Anna, if he's all right. It wouldn't be Alban Kennedy now?" He became serious in an instant, putting the question as though his favor depended upon her answer in the negative. Anna, however, quite ignored the suggestion when she replied. "I came to speak to you about Ascot, father--" "About Ascot--who's Ascot?" "The races at Ascot. I ran a horse there and lost five thousand pounds." "What--you lost--come, Anna, my dear child--you lost--think of it again--you lost fifty pounds? And who the devil took you there, I want to know--who's been playing the fool? I don't agree with young girls betting. I'll have none of that sort of thing in this house. Just tell him so--whoever he is. I'll have none of it, and if it's that--" He broke off at the words, arrested in his banter by the sudden memory of a name. As in a flash he perceived the truth. The man Forrest was at the bottom of this. "Now be plain with me," he cried, "you've seen Willy Forrest again and this is his doing. Yes or no, Anna? Don't you tell me a lie. It's Forrest--he took you to Ascot?" She smiled at his anger. "I ran a horse named Lodestar under the name of Count Donato. I believed that he would win and he lost. That's the story, father. Why drag any names into it?" He regarded her, too amazed to speak. His daughter, this bit of a schoolgirl as he persisted in calling her, she had run a race-horse in her own name? What a thing to hear! But was it an evil thing. The girl had plenty of courage certainly. Very few would have had the pluck to do it at all. Of course it was unlucky that she had not won--but, after all, that could soon be put straight.