During their absence, the crowd in the salon had increased; the press about the roulette-table had become denser; while at half a dozen card-tables, sheltered from the general gathering by large screens of old Italian leather-work, parties of four were playing bridge.
Ignoring these latter groups, Clodagh crossed the room towards the roulette-table, and paused upon the outskirts of the crowd that surrounded it.
Deerehurst, following her closely, narrowed his eyes with a touch of interest as he saw that, either by intention or accident, she had halted beside Sir Walter Gore.
"Well," he said in his thin, satirical voice, as he gained her side--"well, shall we combine forces as we did last night? I brought you luck, remember!"
"No!" she said--"no! I don't play roulette."
At the vehemence of her denial, he raised his eyebrows; and Sir Walter Gore looked round. Seeing the speaker, an involuntary gleam of surprise crossed his face.
"Surely you are not so unfashionable as to disapprove of gambling, Mrs. Milbanke?" he asked.
Clodagh raised her eyes; and this time her glance was free from coquetry.
"I have not been fashionably brought up," she said.
The surprise--and, with it, a reluctant interest--deepened in Gore's glance. But his eyes wandered doubtfully over her dress.
Invariably quick to follow a train of thought, she gave a short, comprehending laugh.
"Oh, I know what you are thinking of!" she cried. "I don't look as if I belong to the wilds. People never understand that dressing is a knack that comes to women, and does not really mean anything."
Again she laughed, like a child who has been praised.
"Oh, it's quite true!" she added. "I could tell you of dozens of cases----"
But her flow of confidence was suddenly terminated. Valentine Serracauld, catching sight of her through the throng of people, had made a hasty way towards her. His finely cut colourless face was animated and his dark grey eyes looked excited.
"How d'you do?--how d'you do, Mrs. Milbanke?" he exclaimed. "Please congratulate me! I've had a run of luck! Netted seventy pounds!"
"Seventy pounds!" she said breathlessly, and instinctively she turned to Gore. But Gore's place was empty. At Serracauld's approach, he had moved unostentatiously away.