nd I, Lord Redford," he said, lightly, "scorn to take small
advantages. We mean to play the game!"

CHAPTER IX

THE TRAGEDY OF A KEY

Blanche, in a plain black net gown, sat on Lord Redford's right hand at
the hastily improvised dinner party that evening. Berenice, more subtly
and more magnificently dressed, was opposite, by Mannering's side. The
conversation seemed mostly to circle about them.

"A very charming place," Lord Redford declared. "I have enjoyed my stay
here thoroughly. Let us hope that we may all meet here again next year,"
he added, raising his glass. "Mannering, you will drink to that, I hope?"

"With all my heart," Mannering answered. "And you, Blanche?"

She raised her almost untasted glass and touched it with her lips. She
set it down with a faint smile. Berenice moved her head towards him.

"Your wife is not very enthusiastic," she remarked.

"She neither plays golf nor bathes," Mannering said. "It is possible that
she finds it a little dull."

"Both are habits which it is possible to acquire," Berenice answered. "I
am telling your husband, Mrs. Mannering," she continued, "that you ought
to learn to play golf."

"Lawrence has offered to teach me more than once," Blanche answered,
calmly. "I am afraid that games do not attract me. Besides, I am too old
to learn!"

"My dear Mrs. Mannering!" Lord Redford protested.

"I am forty-two," Blanche replied, "and at that age a woman thinks twice
before she begins anything new in the shape of vigorous exercise.
Besides, I find plenty to amuse me here."

"Might one ask in what direction?" Berenice murmured. "I have found in
the place many things that are delightful, but not amusing."

"I find amusement often in watching my neighbours," Blanche said. "I like
to ask myself what it is they want, and to study their way of attaining
it. You generally find that every one is fairly transparent when once you
have found the key--and everybody is trying for something which they
don't care for other people to know about."

The Duchess looked at Blanche steadily. There was a certain insolence,
the insolence of her aristocratic birth and assured position in the level
stare of her clear brown eyes. But Blanche did not flinch.

"I had no idea, Mrs. Mannering, that you had tastes of that sort,"
Berenice said, languidly. "Suppose you give us a few examples."

"Not for the world," Blanche answered, fervently. "Did you say that we
were to have coffee out