“Blame has no effect on me,” Zai says rather defiantly, with her little head erect. She is astonished and irritated at the cool condemnatory way in which it pleases Gabrielle to speak. It strikes her that there is too much presumption in it, and her really sweet nature, trodden on, like the traditional worm, seems inclined to “turn.” “But Lady Beranger is a slave to _on dits_, and she will lash herself into a fury if you don’t carry out her scheme of marrying you to Lord Delaval, after your curious behaviour last night.” “It is mamma’s fault, and not mine that it happened; she is always throwing Lord Delaval and me together, and the whole thing is hateful to me.” “Fiddlesticks! Mamma and lover being leagued, the odds are too much against you. You had better make up your mind to marry him; you will _have_ to do so by-and-bye.” Lord Delaval’s threat almost verbatim. Zai blanches with a sudden thrill of fear, and her heart gives a quick bound, but she says lightly: “_Nous verrons!_” “_Nous verrons!_” is the answer, and after a moment, Gabrielle goes on in studied accents: “I think it right to tell you, Zai, that I am resolved not to persuade you any more to marry Lord Delaval. I am a soldier of fortune, you know, and have to make my own way in the world; Lady Beranger deserves no tolerance from me, so I warn you, that I am going to try and serve myself, and if my interest clashes with anyone else’s I won’t yield an inch.” “In other words, Gabrielle, you give me notice that you are going in for Lord Delaval, yourself! I am sure I wish you _bon voyage_ in your undertaking. I hope you will find the result, if gained, a happy one.” “I am not afraid, I never knew what fear was in my life. Cowardice in man or woman is the biggest crime in my eyes,” Gabrielle says with a dare-devil glance. “But,” replies Zai, “why on earth should you consider it necessary to warn me of your project, I, who have no interest in the matter except to wish you happy?” “Simply because I should wish the point made clear to you, so that you may not think me deceitful in the end. I owe the world--_your_ world of Belgravia--nothing. But I have determined to take all I can gain from it by my woman’s wit.” “Follow Trixy’s example, and sell yourself to the highest bidder you can find in my world, then!” “No one has ever bid high enough for me,” Gabrielle cries bitterly, at the same time tossing her head with the proud air of a De Rohan. “Pariah, as I am, I have that which many of you Belgravians lack--the knowledge how to _live. Mon Dieu!_ What a magnificent specimen of a _grande dame_ I should make! Would that I were a peeress, and rich!” Zai looks at her wonderingly, then she says quietly: “I cannot think why people do not consider an inordinate desire for money sinful. It seems to me that money is at the bottom of every crime ever since our Lord Himself was betrayed for thirty pieces of silver.”