from the
dramatic quality of the situation.

She was finally reduced to playing piquet with Wickham, and though she
won a good deal of money from him--more, that is, than he could
comfortably afford to lose--she still counted the evening a failure, bad
in the present, and extremely menacing to the future. For with her
habitual mental candor, she admitted that by this time Christine, if not
actually frozen to death--which after all one could not exactly hope--had
probably won the game. The chances were that Riatt was captured.

"What is the matter, Ned?" she said to her brother, as he fidgeted about
the card-table, after a last futile expedition to the telephone. "Can't
you decide whether you'd rather the lady of your love were dead or
subjected for twenty-four hours to the fascinations of an irresistible
young man?"

"What an interesting question that raises," observed Wickham, examining
rather ruefully the three meager cards he had drawn. "A modern
Lady-or-the-Tiger idea. I am not of a jealous temperament and should
always prefer to see a woman happy with another man."

"And often do, I dare say," said Nancy. "I have a point of seven, and
fourteen aces."

"I must own I can't see Riatt's irresistible quality," said Hickson
irritably.

"Rich, nice-looking and has his wits about him," replied Mrs. Almar
succinctly.

"About as good-looking as a fence-rail."

"And they say women are envious!" exclaimed his sister.

"Are you a feminist, Mrs. Almar?" inquired the irrepressible Wickham.

"No, just a female, Mr. Wickham."

"I never thought a big bony nose made a man a beauty," grumbled Hickson.

"Ah, how much wisdom there is in that reply of yours, Mrs. Almar," said
Wickham. "Just a female. Your meaning is, if I interpret you rightly,
that you are content with the duties and charms which Nature has bestowed
upon your sex--"

"Until I can get something better," replied Nancy briskly, drawing the
score toward her and beginning to add it up. "My idea is to let the other
women do the fighting; if they win, I shall profit; if they lose, I'm no
worse off. I believe I've rubiconed you again, Mr. Wickham."

"Well, I don't understand women's taste, anyhow," said Hickson.

"You never spoke a truer word than that, my dear," said Nancy.
"Seventy-four fifty, I think that makes it, Mr. Wickham, subtracting the
dollar and a half you made on the first game. Oh, yes, a check will do
perfectly. I'm less likely to lose it."