eryone in the room was bound at length to
pair.

Hone would have foregone this part of the entertainment, but the
colonel's wife was firm.

"People never know how to arrange themselves," she declared. "And I
decline any responsibility of that sort. The Fates shall decide for us.
It will be infinitely more satisfactory in the end."

And Hone could only bow to her ruling.

Nina Perceval was the first to draw. Her card was the ace of hearts. She
slung it round her neck in accordance with Mrs. Chester's decree, and
sat down to await her destiny.

It was some time in coming. One after another drew and paired in the
midst of much chaff and merriment; but she sat solitary in her corner
watching the pile of cards diminish while she remained unclaimed.

"Most unusual!" declared Mrs. Chester. "Whom can the Fates be reserving
for you, I wonder?"

Nina had no answer to make. She sat with her dark eyes fixed upon the
few cards that were left in front of Hone, not uttering a single word.
He sat motionless, too, Teddy Duncombe, who had paired with his hostess,
standing by his side. He was not looking in her direction, but by some
mysterious means she knew that his attention was focussed upon herself.
She was convinced in her secret soul that, though he hid his anxiety, he
was closely watching every card in the hope that he might ultimately
pair with her.

The last man drew and found his partner. One card only was left in front
of Hone. He laid his hand upon it, paused for an instant, then turned it
up. The ace of hearts!

She felt herself stiffen involuntarily, and something within her began
to pound and race like the hoofs of a galloping horse. A brief agitation
was hers, which she almost instantly subdued, but which left her
strangely cold.

Hone had risen from the table. He came quietly to her side. There was no
visible elation about him. His grey eyes were essentially honest, but
they were deliberately emotionless at that moment.

In the hubbub of voices all about them he bent and spoke.

"It may not be the fate you would have chosen; but since submit we
must, shall we not make the best of it?"

She met his look with the aloofness of utter disdain.

"Your strategy was somewhat too apparent to be ascribed to Fate," she
said. "I cannot imagine why you took the trouble."

A dark flush mounted under Hone's tan. He straightened himself abruptly,
and she was conscious of a moment's sharp misgiving that was strangely