"Goin' in for rouge et noir with Lady Jim?" asked Miss Mulrady, alluding to the hair of Askew and his friend; "or perhaps she's sportin' on trente et quarante, to suit her years." "She's under thirty," growled Askew, crossly. "An' you're under the weather, considerable," retorted the American, sharply. "Get up steam an' fizzle a bit, can't you?" "Shall I war-whoop, or dance a horn-pipe?" "Neither I prefer originality." "Try the system, then"; and Askew pushed his way through the Mammon-worshippers to where the roulette ball wheeled its fatal round. Lady Jim did not play. She had stupidly forgotten her peacock's feather and could not risk loss with her small capital. But Billy, having the audacity and luck of innocence, was at hand, so she gave him five hundred francs to experiment. "We'll halve the winnings." "Never take money from a woman," said Billy, gravely; "but I don't mind a fly. Got any sportin' number?" "Thirteen, because that's your age. There is Mademoiselle Aksakoff, I wish to speak to her"; and she moved gracefully towards the tall, pale girl, while Young Iniquity, with the air of a Vanderbilt, planked her money on the odd number. Katinka Aksakoff grew crimson when Lady Jim saluted her, and would have evaded the meeting if possible. She might have been a nun from the looks of her, and was garbed in unrelieved black, which Leah concluded was mourning for unrequited affection. After that fleeting wave of colour, her thin, oval face grew marble white, and a pair of dark questioning eyes appeared twice as large and three times as brilliant as they had been before resting on Lady Jim's gracious smile. "So glad to meet you," murmured Leah, as they shook hands in the air. "Lady Richardson and I have come to tea. Where is your father?" "He is talking with the German ambassador," replied Katinka, without a smile, and with Siberian coldness. "So fortunate. We can chat without interruption." "I scarcely think we have much to chat about." "Oh yes," rejoined Lady Jim, with perfect good-humour. "When you learn how you misjudge me, we shall get on capitally." "Pardon. I do not understand." "Probably not, since I have yet to make my explanation. Let us walk on the terrace, and you can throw me over, to where they shoot the pigeons, if my conversation displeases you." "Ah, but it is so strange!" "And so necessary--to your peace of mind." "No!" Mademoiselle Aksakoff's face grew scarlet once more, and she pressed her hand to her heart, as though she felt there a cruel pain. Perhaps she did, poor soul! But the stoicism of the Slav enabled her to summon up a wry smile, and to bow her head, as she followed her brilliant rival. With the excess of an ill-governed, passionate heart did she hate this woman; but as a Niobe, frozen and cold, did she appear when they were pacing the terrace. And not one single word of her companion's sugared speech was she prepared to believe.