“You are cruel to remind me of that visit,” said Sylvia, with her most charmingly coquettish air. “I have the most painfully distinct recollection of it, even to finding fault with the little yellow room because it was not as fine as the rest of the house.” Skelton concluded that neither a course of travel, a system of education, nor a knowledge of the world were necessary to teach Miss Sylvia how to get into the good graces of the other sex. In the midst of it all, Bulstrode, who heard everything and was constitutionally averse to holding his tongue, whispered to Conyers: “That speech of Mr. Blair’s has ruined him--see if it has not”; while old Tom Shapleigh growled _sotto voce_ to himself, “This comes of the madam’s damnable mixing people up.” There was no more real jollity after this, although much affected gaiety; nor was the subject of racing brought up again. Presently they all went to the drawing-room, and cards and coffee were brought. In cutting for partners, Sylvia and Skelton played against Blair and Bulstrode. Everybody played for money in those days, and there were little piles of gold dollars by each player. Blair was a crack whist player, but luck was against him. Besides, he had had an extra glass or two of wine, and the presence of Skelton was discomposing to him; so, although the stakes were small, he managed to lose all the money he had with him. Sylvia could not but admire the exquisite tact with which the rich man accepted the winnings from the poor man. Skelton gave not the smallest hint that any difference at all existed between Blair and himself, and Blair lost his money with the finest air in the world. As for Skelton, he had always hated Blair, and that speech at dinner warmed his hatred wonderfully, for Skelton could forgive an injury, but not an impertinence. Any want of personal respect towards himself he ranked as a crime deserving the severest punishment. Towards eleven o’clock the party broke up. Blair had made a mortal enemy, he had drank too much wine, he had distressed his wife, offended his hosts, and lost all his money. Bulstrode and Conyers had been bored to death--Bulstrode because he was all for drink and the classics, Conyers because it was against his conscience to take part in jovial dinner parties. Skelton was furiously angry in spite of his invincible coolness and self-possession. Sylvia was vexed. Old Tom was sardonically amused. Only Mrs. Shapleigh congratulated herself, as the last carriage drove off, with: “Well, the dinner was a great success. I never saw people enjoy themselves more in my life!” CHAPTER VII.