e same time
giving Madame de Vaurigard a look of grateful surprise and tenderness,
which threw her into a confusion so evidently genuine that for an
unworthy moment he had a jealous suspicion she had meant the little
caress for some other.

It was a disagreeable thought, and, in the hope of banishing it, he
refilled his glass; but his mood had begun to change. It seemed to him
that Helene was watching Cooley a great deal too devotedly. Why had she
consented to sit by Cooley, when she had promised to watch Robert Russ
Mellin? He observed the pair stealthily.

Cooley consulted her in laughing whispers upon every discard, upon every
bet. Now and then, in their whisperings, Cooley's hair touched hers;
sometimes she laid her hand on his the more conveniently to look at his
cards. Mellin began to be enraged. Did she think that puling milksop
had as much as a shadow of the daring, the devilry, the carelessness of
consequences which lay within Robert Russ Mellin? "Consequences?" What
were they? There were no such things! She would not look at him--well,
he would make her! Thenceforward he raised every bet by another to the
extent of the limit agreed upon.

Mr. Cooley was thoroughly happy. He did not resemble Ulysses; he would
never have had himself bound to the mast; and there were already sounds
of unearthly sweetness in his ears. His conferences with his lovely
hostess easily consoled him for his losses. In addition, he was
triumphing over the boaster, for Mr. Pedlow, with a very ill grace
and swearing (not under his breath), was losing too. The Countess,
reiterating for the hundredth time that Cooley was a "wicked one,"
sweetly constituted herself his cup-bearer; kept his glass full and
brought him fresh cigars.

Mellin dealt her furious glances, and filled his own glass, for Lady
Mount-Rhyswicke plainly had no conception of herself in the role of a
Hebe. The hospitable Pedlow, observing this neglect, was moved to chide
her.

"Look at them two cooing doves over there," he said reproachfully, a
jerk of his bulbous thumb indicating Madame de Vaurigard and her young
protege. "Madge, can't you do nothin' fer our friend the Indian? Can't
you even help him to sody?"

"Oh, perhaps," she answered with the slightest flash from her tired
eyes. Then she nonchalantly lifted Mellin's replenished glass from the
table and drained it. This amused Cooley.

"I like that!" he chuckled. "That's one way of helpin' a feller! Helene,
can