"Come along!" Lady Frances urged again--"come, Rose!" She smiled at Mrs. Bathurst. "Unlucky at bridge, lucky at roulette! Come, Tory!--come, Val!" She glanced from Luard to Serracauld. There was another amused laugh, and all the party with the exception of Clodagh stepped forward and placed one or many coins upon the table. Lady Frances' eyes were quick to detect the exception. With her fingers poised above the board, she waited smilingly. "Won't you stake, Mrs. Milbanke?" she asked. Clodagh blushed, and stepped back shyly. At the same instant, Serracauld moved forward to her side. "Oh, Mrs. Milbanke, but you must!" he cried. Again confusion covered Clodagh, as all eyes were turned upon her. "No, please!" she said. "I--I think I'd rather not." Barnard laughed suavely. "Mrs. Milbanke is wise!" he said. "She wants to see which way the gods are pointing." "Then Mrs. Milbanke is unwise! The gods are jealous beings; we must not treat them with suspicion. I'll stake for her!" It was Lord Deerehurst who spoke. And regardless of Clodagh's quick, half-frightened expostulation, he stepped forward out of the little circle, and placed a gold coin on the number thirteen. A moment later Lady Frances gave a short amused laugh, and with a dexterous movement of the fingers set the ball whizzing. To Clodagh it was a supreme--an extraordinary--moment. Until Lord Deerehurst had made the stake--until the first click of the spinning ball had struck upon her ear--she had been conscious of only one feeling: a prejudiced, innate dread of every game--whether of chance or skill--upon which money could be staked; but the simple placing of the coin, the simple turning of the pivot had marked for her a psychological moment. With a quick catching of the breath, she stepped involuntarily forward, aware of but one fact--the keen, exhilarating knowledge that the stopping of the ball must mean loss or gain--individual loss or gain. During the dozen seconds that it spun round the circle, she stood silent; then a faint sound of uncontrollable excitement slipped from between her lips. Hers was the winning number! As in a dream, she extended her hand, and took the little heap of money from the fingers of Luard, who had come to Lady Frances' assistance; then, on the instant that the coins touched her palm, her excitement evaporated; her sense of elation fell away, to be succeeded by the first instinctive shrinking that had swayed her imagination. Acting purely upon impulse, she turned to Lord Deerehurst; and before he could remonstrate, pressed the money into his hand. "Please take it!" she said urgently--"please take it! It isn't mine. It oughtn't to be mine. I--I don't wish to play." CHAPTER VI The little incident, trivial in itself, damped the general ardour for roulette. After a dozen turns of the wheel, Lady Frances declared herself satisfied.