ight pinks and blues
sat in every corner of the staircase. There was a balcony from which you
could look down on the dancers as from the gallery of a playhouse. Also
there was an American bar where women smoked cigarettes. Lord Robert
ordered supper, and when the meal was announced they went into the
supper-room.

"Hello there!" greeted them as they entered. At little tables lit up by
pink candles sat small groups of shirt fronts and butterfly ties with
fair heads and pretty frocks. Waiters were coming and going with
champagne and silver dishes; there was a clatter of knives and forks, and
a jabber of voices and laughter. And all the time there came the sounds
of the band, with the "Tra-la-la" from the ballroom below.

Glory sat by Drake. She realized that she had lowered herself in his eyes
by coming there. He was drinking a good deal and paying her endless
compliments. From time to time the tables about them were vacated and
filled again by similar shirt fronts and fair heads. People were arriving
from the Derby, and the talk was of the day's racing. Some of the new
arrivals saluted Drake, and many of them looked at Glory. "A rippin' good
race, old chappie. Didn't suit my book exactly, but the bookies will have
smiling faces at Tattersall's on Monday."

A man with a big beard at the next table pulled down his white waistcoat,
lifted his glass, and said, "To Gloria!" It was her acquaintance of the
race-course.

"Who is Blue Beard?" she asked in a whisper.

"They call him the Faro King," said Drake. "Made all his money by
gambling in Paris, and now he is a squire with a living in his gift."

Then over the laughter and voices, the band and the singing, with an
awful suddenness there came a crash of thunder. The band and the comic
song stopped, and there was a hush for a moment. Then Lord Robert said:

"Wonder if this is the dreadful storm that is to overwhelm the nation,
don't you know!"

That fell on the house of frivolity like a second thunderbolt, and people
began to look up with blanched faces.

"Well, it isn't the first time the _storm_ has howled; it's been howling
all along," said Lord Robert, but nobody laughed.

Presently the company recovered itself, the bands and the singing were
heard again, louder and wilder than before, the men shouted for more
champagne, and nicknamed every waiter "Father Storm."

Glory was ashamed. With her head on her hand she was looking at the
people around when the "Faro