"Oh, I am not in the smoking-room," said Evelyn. If one judged by definitions given in dictionaries it would probably be a misuse of language to say that Lady Ellington "played" bridge. Cards were dealt her, and she dealt with them, embarking on commercial transactions. She assessed the value of her hand with far more accuracy than she had ever brought to play on the assessment of her income-tax, and proceeded to deal with her assets with even more acuteness than she was accustomed to dispose on the expenditure of her income. Mrs. Home had silently entreated Philip to allow her to cut out, and Lady Ellington was left to play with three men. This she always enjoyed, because she took full advantage of the slight concessions which were allowed to her sex if no other woman was of the table. But before embarking on the second rubber she turned to Madge. "I want to speak to you, dearest," she said, "before you go to bed. We shall only play a couple more rubbers. Mr. Home, you really ought to have pneumatic cards; they are a little more expensive, but last so much longer--yes, two more rubbers--I go no trumps--and I will come to your room on my way up. No doubling? Thank you, partner; that is the suit I wanted." Philip, who was her partner, had exposed two excellent suits, so the imagination of the others might run riot over which particular suit was the desire of Lady Ellington. At any rate she scored a little slam, but was not satisfied, and turned on Evelyn, who, it is idle to remark, had talked during the play. "I missed a nine," she said. "Mr. Dundas was saying something very amusing." But as her face had been like flint, Mr. Dundas had to draw the inference that, however amusing, she had not been amused. Lady Ellington always kept the score herself, and never showed any signs of moving, if she had won, until accounts had been adjusted and paid. To-night affairs had gone prosperously for her; she was gracious in her "good-nights," and even commended the admirable temperature of the hot water, a glass of which she always sipped before going to bed. Madge had gone upstairs, but not long before; and her mother, having locked her winnings into her dressing-case, came to her room and found her sitting by the open window, still not yet preparing to go to bed. "Do I understand that you walked on the terrace alone with Mr. Dundas?" she asked in a peculiarly chilly voice. Madge showed no surprise; she had known what was coming. "Yes, we took a turn or two," she said. Her mother sat down; Madge had not turned from the window and was still looking out. "Kindly attend, Madge," she said. "It was very indiscreet, and you know it. I don't think Mr. Home liked it." Of the girl who had talked so eagerly and naturally to Evelyn on the terrace there was hardly a trace; Madge's face had grown nearly as hard as her mother's. "I am not bound just yet to do all Mr. Home likes," she said.