“_Play_?” He sprang to his feet. “Bravo! That's the very thing I've been wanting to do. I knew there was something I wanted to do, but I couldn't think what it was.” Lady Mount-Rhyswicke followed the others into the salon, but Madame de Vaurigard waited just inside the doorway for Mellin. “_High_ play!” he cried. “We must play high! I won't play any other way.--I want to play _high_!” “Ah, wicked one! What did I tell you?” He caught her hand. “And you must play too, Helene.” “No, no,” she laughed breathlessly. “Then you'll watch. Promise you'll watch me. I won't let you go till you promise to watch me.” “I shall adore it, my frien'!” “Mellin,” called Cooley from the other room. “You comin' or not?” “Can't you see me?” answered Mellin hilariously, entering with Madame de Vaurigard, who was rosy with laughter. “Peculiar thing to look at a man and not see him.” Candles were lit in many sconces on the walls, and the card-table had been pushed to the centre of the room, little towers of blue, white and scarlet counters arranged upon it in orderly rows like miniature castles. “Now, then,” demanded Cooley, “are the ladies goin' to play?” “Never!” cried Madame de Vaurigard. “All right,” said the youth cheerfully; “you can look on. Come and sit by me for a mascot.” “You'll need a mascot, my boy!” shouted Pedlow. “That's right, though; take her.” He pushed a chair close to that in which Cooley had already seated himself, and Madame de Vaurigard dropped into it, laughing. “Mellin, you set there,” he continued, pushing the young man into a seat opposite Cooley. “We'll give both you young fellers a mascot.” He turned to Lady Mount-Rhyswicke, who had gone to the settee by the fire. “Madge, you come and set by Mellin,” he commanded jovially. “Maybe he'll forget you ain't a widow again.” “I don't believe I care much about bein' anybody's mascot to-night,” she answered. There was a hint of anger in her tired monotone. “What?” He turned from the table and walked over to the fireplace. “I reckon I didn't understand you,” he said quietly, almost gently. “You better come, hadn't you?” She met his inscrutable little eyes steadily. A faint redness slowly revealed itself on her powdered cheeks; then she followed him back to the table and took the place he had assigned to her at Mellin's elbow. “I'll bank,” said Pedlow, taking a chair between Cooley and the Italian, “unless somebody wants to take it off my hands. Now, what are we playing?” “Pokah,” responded Sneyd with mild sarcasm. “Bravo!” cried Mellin. “That's _my_ game. Ber-_ravo!_” This was so far true: it was the only game upon which he had ever ventured money; he had played several times when the wagers were allowed to reach a limit of twenty-five cents. “You know what I mean, I reckon,” said Pedlow. “I mean what we are playin' _fer_?” “Twenty-five franc limit,” responded Cooley authoritatively. “Double for jacks. Play two hours and settle when we quit.”