"
Wingrave was silent. The hand was insistent, and he held it for a
moment lightly, and then let it go.
"Well, I don't know," he said doubtfully. "The Barringtons have been
very hospitable to me."
"Rubbish!" the Marchioness answered. "You have done quite enough for
them already. Of course, you are a man--and you must choose. I am sure
that you understand me."
He rose to his feet.
"I must think this out," he said. "The Barringtons have a sort of
claim on me. I will let you know which way I decide."
She stood close to him, and her hand fell upon his shoulder.
"You are not going!" she exclaimed. "I have told them that I am at
home to no one, and I thought that you would stay and entertain me.
Sit down again, Wingrave!"
"Sorry," he answered, "I have a lot to do this afternoon. I came
directly I had your note; but I have had to keep some other people
waiting."
"You are going to see Lady Ruth!"
"Not that I know of," he declared. "I have heard nothing from her. By
the bye, I lost some money to you at bridge the other evening. How
much was it? Do you remember?"
She looked at him for a second, and turned away.
"Do you really want to know?" she asked.
"If you please. Put the amount down on a piece of paper, and then I
sha'n't forget it."
She crossed the room to her desk, and returned with a folded envelope.
He stuffed it into his waistcoat pocket.
"I shall be at the opera tonight," she said.
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