"In that respect we set you an example, do we not?" laughs his wife. "We don't go to perdition because we are disappointed in love." "Because your natures are so different. The same rule cannot apply to a man and a woman. I thought we had agreed on that before," says Colonel Carlisle. "So we had. Instance Keith and Lauraine." "And my lady and--myself." And he bends down and kisses the sweet red lips. That closes the argument. They forget all about Keith and Lauraine; they talk now of their own love, and of each other. CHAPTER XXXII It is a week later. Lady Etwynde and her husband have left Paris and gone back to the æsthetic mansion in Kensington. They have decided on living there still. To Lady Etwynde it is endeared by many memories and associations, and her husband is content with whatever pleases her. Lady Jean is still in the gay city, and so is Keith Athelstone. "How the affair drags!" murmurs the Lady Jean to herself one evening as she is making her toilette. "Karolyski is persevering, I can see; but Keith--he is quite too stupid. I must try and hasten the _dénouement_. Besides, Frank comes back in a few days, and I don't want _him_ to suspect. Could I bring matters to an issue to-night, I wonder?" She looks at herself in the glass, and a flush of triumph rises to her cheek. She looks supremely handsome in a dress of black satin, with judicious touches of white lace and white flowers; and as she sweeps into her rooms and sees Keith's involuntary glance of admiration, she feels a little thrill of triumph. As the evening goes on, as her guests assemble, she contrives that Keith Athelstone should be always by her side, and though the scowling face of Count Karolyski is frequently turned towards her, she is by no means intimidated. He and Keith are mutually antagonistic to each other, and to-night the Count's manner is almost insulting. Again, the question of play is mooted, and again he taunts Keith with his care of his dollars. The evening is very warm, and the young fellow has drunk more wine than he usually does, and Lady Jean has taken care that it is wine both strong and exciting. At the Count's veiled sneers he loses his temper--never a very forbearing one--and, forgetful of promises and resolutions, sits down at the table. The stakes grow higher; he is winning fast. Again and again he is victor and again and again does the money of the Count flow into his keeping. Lady Jean comes near him and leans against his chair. Her perfumed hair almost sweeps his cheek. As he glances up he meets all the dark intensity and lustre of her eyes. "You are wonderfully fortunate in--everything," she says, smiling; and the Count glances up and crushes back an oath between his set teeth. Then quite suddenly, and with the most serene innocence, Lady Jean stoops and picks up a card by Keith's side. "You have dropped this," she says, and lays it on the table.