But his teeth were set, and the muscles of his massive jaw were working hard, as he gazed intently on the gravel at his feet. It was evidently no laughing matter with Haggard. The muscles of his jaw had worked in a similar way only a week ago, when he stood on the grand stand at Epsom, and saw the favourite, whom he had backed heavily, almost "collared" on the post; but the favourite had won, and Dark Despair had failed to land the odds of sixty to one laid against him. So had the muscles of Reginald Haggard's jaw worked when he had "bluffed" Don Emmanuel Garcia at the almost historical game of poker, which they had played at Chihuahua. Haggard had only held knave high, about as small a hand as a poker player can hold; he had successfully "bluffed" the Mexican, and won. He is bluffing now, for hearts are trumps at the game that is being played; and we, who look over the cards of both hands, can see that big Reginald's at least is a poor one. Will he win? Of course he will. What chance has Georgie Warrender against so experienced a player? The stakes were Haggard's before he had cut or shuffled the cards. "Sure, Georgie? of course I'm sure. I may hope, then? I may dare to hope?" Wise man as he was, he carried the place by a determined rush. He took her hand in his, the taper little fingers were not withdrawn. "Georgie, darling, how can I thank you? I am not good at this sort of thing." If he had not attained perfection in the art of love, it was certainly not for want of practice; for if the truth be told, the big Lothario habitually made love to every pretty woman he met; and if there was no pretty woman, then to the least unprepossessing one of those present. The rest of the conversation went on much as such conversations usually do. Haggard swore eternal constancy. Georgie confessed that she "supposed she did care for him." But this modified sympathy did not satisfy Haggard; he pleaded for something more explicit. "I have always liked you, Mr. Haggard," she said, for Georgie could not yet bring herself to address her lover by his Christian name; "but I fear I must seem a very poor creature after all the dashing South-American beauties, to say nothing of the many recognized successes of the past season." "But you were the success of the past season, Georgie. Everybody knows it. Why, they raved about you. You must know very well that Madame Hortense made a little fortune with the 'Warrender' hat." "Ah, that was Lucy's idea, not mine, Mr. Haggard." "A very charming idea, Georgie, but never so charming as when you wore it." Georgie Warrender rose and made him a low courtesy. "I see you deal in sugared compliments," she said. He got up and offered his arm.