At his glance and his words, Clodagh's expression changed. The vague excitement of the past hours seemed suddenly to focus itself. She realised abruptly that she had not yet vindicated her right to the joy of life. With exaggerated difference she bent her head in acknowledgment of his greeting; and almost immediately turned to Deerehurst. "Lord Deerehurst!" she said, very softly and distinctly, "I want you to do me a favour to-night! I want you to teach me to play roulette!" It was her declaration of war--the moment towards which she had unconsciously been tending ever since the interview of the afternoon. She knew it instantly the words had left her lips--knew it by the quick surprise in Barnard's eyes, the sharp curiosity in Lady Frances Hope's, the veiled triumph in Deerehurst's, and the cold disapprobation in Sir Walter Gore's. Without another glance she turned away and walked slowly forward across the salon, to where a couple of dozen people were grouped about the roulette-table. As she moved deliberately forward, many heads were turned in her direction, but she was heedless and almost unobservant of the interest she evoked. Her heart was beating fast, she was rejoicing recklessly in her vindicated independence. Deerehurst overtook her, as she halted by the roulette-table. And she was conscious of his presence without looking round. "Will you stake for me?" she said in a quick undertone. "You were lucky the other night." He stepped forward, smiling with a cold touch of wisdom, and took the coin she handed to him. "What! A convert!" cried Luard, who was again officiating at the game. "Luck to you, Mrs. Milbanke!" He gave a pleasant laugh, as her coin touched the table, and a moment later set the ball spinning. Clodagh waited, holding her breath. The ball slackened speed--hesitated over the gaily painted board--and finally dropped into its place. There was a general laugh of excitement; the little crowd pressed closer to the table, and she saw her coin swept into Luard's hands. The incident was eventful. Quite suddenly the colour leaped into her face and her eyes blazed. In total unconsciousness of self, she stepped forward to the table. Deerehurst, closely watchful of her, moved to her side. "Shall I stake again?" he asked in a whisper. But she did not turn her head. "No!--no!" she cried. "I'll stake for myself." Her voice sounded distant and absorbed. It seemed in that brief moment that she had forgotten her companion and herself. Thrice she staked, and thrice lost; but the losses whetted her desires. She played boldly, with a certain reckless grace born of complete unconsciousness. At last fortune favoured her, and she won. Deerehurst, still standing close beside her, saw the expression of her face, saw the careless--the almost inconsequent--air with which she accepted her spoils; and, noting both, he touched her arm.