Luck favoured him, or so he thought. Fricker and his wife had been dropped at a party on the way home; Connie had no card for it, and was now waiting for them alone--or, rather, was using her time in consuming chicken and champagne. He joined in her meal, and did full justice to one ingredient of it at least. With his glass in his hand he leant back in his chair and began to tell her how he had served Trix Trevalla. Whatever the reality might have been there was no doubt who came out triumphant in the narrative. Connie had finished her chicken. She leant her plump bare arms on the table and fixed applauding eyes on him. 'Splendid!' she said with a glint of teeth. 'I should love to have seen that.' 'I gave her a bit more than she reckoned on,' he said, lighting his cigar and then tossing off the last of his glass of wine. 'I gave it her straight.' He looked across at Connie. 'That's the only way with women,' he told her. Miss Connie mingled admiration and a playful defiance in her smile. 'You ought to have married her, then you'd have had your chance,' she suggested. 'Precious glad I didn't!' said Beaufort. 'Good for her, but poor fun for me, Connie.' Connie got up and came round the table. 'You're spilling all your ash on the tablecloth.' She gave him an ash-tray from the mantel-piece. 'Use that, silly,' said she, patting his shoulder, and she went on, 'Any woman could manage you all right, you know. Oh, I don't mean a goose like Trix Trevalla, but----' 'A clever girl like yourself, eh?' 'Well, that's the last thing I was thinking about. Still, as far as that goes, I expect I could.' He slewed his chair half round and looked up at her. Her rollicking defiance, with its skilful hint of contempt, worked on his mood. He forgot his daylight reluctance to commit himself. 'We'd see about that, Miss Connie,' he said. 'Oh, I shouldn't be afraid!' she laughed. She spoke the truth; she was not the least afraid of Beaufort Chance, though she was more than a little afraid of Mrs. Fricker. She was at the same time fully aware that Chance would like to think that she was in her heart rather afraid; she gauged him nicely, and the bravado of her declaration was allowed to be hinted at by a fall and a turning-away of her eyes. With a confident laugh he slipped his arm round her waist; she drew away; he held her strongly. 'Be quiet,' he said imperiously. She stood still, apparently embarrassed but yet obedient. 'Why did you try to get away?' he asked almost threateningly. 'Well, I'm quiet enough now,' she pleaded with a low laugh. His self-complacency was restored; the buffets of the evening were forgotten. He remembered how he had served Trix Trevalla; he forgot what that pleasure had entailed on himself. Now he was showing this girl that she was no match for him. He held her in his grasp while he smoked. 'This is rather dull for me,' suggested Connie after a while. 'I hope you like it, Mr. Chance?'