"Nothing," replied Adrian, thrusting his hands into his pockets and looking down at the debris from his height of six feet odd, "only I'm sick of playing you've won a deuce of a lot, so unless I want to leave myself a pauper, I think I'll give the game best for to-night." "Better luck next time," said Trevanna, rising and stretching himself, "you're a bad loser." "There never yet was a philosopher who could bear the toothache patiently," quoted Adrian with a grim smile. "You call losing at cards, toothache," murmured Philip indolently, "I daresay you're right, it's quite as disagreeable at all events." He glanced complacently over the bundle of I.O.U's he held in his hand, added the amounts together, then offered them to his companion. "I'm rather in luck's way to-night," he said in a satisfied tone, "if you don't mind, old chap, I'd like a cheque for a thousand." Adrian bit his nether lip angrily, then walking towards his desk, and pulling out a blank cheque, made it out for the amount named, which he handed to Philip without a word, then taking the I.O.U's he tore them up and threw the pieces on the floor. "That pretty well clears me out of ready money," he said at length, resuming his position in front of the mantelpiece, while Philip filled himself a glass of brandy-and-soda, "it will pull me up for a bit." "Never mind," said Trevanna with an evil smile, "your marriage with Olive Maunders will put you straight." "Leave Miss Maunders out of the question," observed Adrian imperiously, "you've no right to use her name." "I'll use the name of anybody I like," retorted Trevanna, into whose head the liquor he had drunk was rapidly mounting. "Except hers," said Lancaster quietly, although his dark face was flushed with anger. Philip Trevanna laughed insolently at the remark and taking up a few cards, lightly balanced them in his hand. "A nice one you are, to preach morality," he said scoffingly, "you're about as bad a lot as there is in Town." "You're not much better, at all events," observed Adrian wrathfully. "Look here, Trevanna, shut up--I'm not in the best of tempers, and you know I've got hot blood in my veins, so when I get angry it's dangerous. Don't rouse the tiger in me." "Don't talk bosh," said Trevanna politely, "you know you only want to marry Olive Maunders for her money." "Speak for yourself," cried Lancaster, going over to a side table and taking up a decanter to pour himself out some brandy. "I know you'd give anything to be in my place." "Tell you what," said Trevanna, with an ugly look. "I'll play you for her--if I win, I marry her." "Hold your tongue," retorted Adrian, grasping the stem of the decanter in a paroxysm of rage. "I'll back this thousand against Olive Maunders," observed Trevanna, ignoring the menacing look of his friend. "Will you play?" "No." "Then go to the devil," shouted Philip, losing control of himself and flinging the cards he was holding into the face of Adrian. "Take that."