"There, that will do," said Sir Douglas, as Evelyn seemed inclined to repeat the performance. "I don't want to see your cheeks like those of that lady opposite." A gentleman stood aside to let them leave the table, and as they passed he held out his hand to Lucy. She did not take it at once, but looked up at Sir Douglas in pretty consternation. "_There!_" she said. "I knew it! This is one of my father's churchwardens." Sir Douglas was much amused. "Well," he said, "you have at least met on common ground!" Lucy attempted a feeble explanation of the situation in which she had been caught, and then hastily followed the others to the inner temples sacred to _Rouge et Noir_. Here, at least, there was tragedy enough even at the first glance. Lucy almost forgot the poor lad at the roulette-table, as she watched the piles of gold being raked hither and thither with such terrific speed. One consumptive-looking man, whose face scarcely promised a year of life, was staking wildly, and losing, losing, losing. At lust the piles in front of him were all gone. After a moment's hesitation they were followed by note after note from his pocket-book. Then these too came to an end, but still the relentless wheel went on with that swiftness that is like nothing else on earth. The man made no movement to leave the table. With yellow-white shaking hands he continued to note the results, and while all the rest were staking and winning and losing, he went on aimlessly, feverishly pricking some meaningless design on the ruled sheet before him. And all the time two young girls were gaining, gaining, gaining, and smiling to the men behind them as they raked in the piles of gold. "Let us go," said Lucy quickly. "I cannot bear this." "I do think we have had enough of it," Lady Munro agreed. "I am thirsty, Douglas; let us have some coffee." They strolled out into the bright sunshine. "Well," said Sir Douglas, "a little disappointing, _n'est ce pas_?" "Oh no," said Lucy; "not at all. It is far more real than I thought. The only disappointing thing is that----" "What?" She lifted her eyes with an expression of profound gravity. "All the women trim their own hats." "Why, Lucy," put in Evelyn, "I saw some very nice hats." "I did not say none of them trimmed their hats _well_," said Lucy severely. "I only said they all trimmed their own." "We are rather too early in the day for _toilettes_," said Sir Douglas. "I confess one does not see many attractive women here; but there was a highly respectable British matron just opposite us at that last table." "Yes," said Lucy indignantly. "She was the worst of all; sailing about in her comfortable British plumage, with that air of self-satisfied horror at the depth of Continental wickedness, and of fond pride in the bouncing flapper at her heels. She made me feel that it was worse to look on than to play."