m crossed his faded eyes, but he let her remark pass for the
moment. Then, when he was quite sure that violent emotion had been
exhausted within him:

"Do you want your bills paid?" he asked. "Because, if you do, Fane,
Harmon & Co. are not going to pay them."

"We are living beyond our means?" she inquired disdainfully.

"Not if you will be good enough to mind your business, my friend. I've
managed this establishment on our winnings for two years. It's a detail;
but you might as well know it. My association with Fane, Harmon & Co.
runs the Newport end of it, and nothing more."

"What did you marry me for?" she asked curiously.

A slight colour came into his face: "Because that damned Rosamund Fane
lied about you."

"Oh! . . . You knew that in Manila? You'd heard about it, hadn't
you--the Western timber-lands? Rosamund didn't mean to lie--only the
titles were all wrong, you know. . . . And so you made a bad break,
Jack; is that it?"

"Yes, that is it."

"And it cost you a fortune, and me a--husband. Is that it, my friend?"

"I can afford you if you will stop your meddling," he said coolly.

"I see; I am to stop my meddling and you are to continue your downtown
gambling in your own house in the evenings."

"Precisely. It happens that I am sufficiently familiar with the
stock-market to make a decent living out of the Exchange; and it also
happens that I am sufficiently fortunate with cards to make the pleasure
of playing fairly remunerative. Any man who can put up proper margin has
a right to my services; any man whom I invite and who can take up his
notes, has a right to play under my roof. If his note goes to protest,
he forfeits that right. Now will you kindly explain to yourself exactly
how this matter can be of any interest to you?"

"I have explained it," she said wearily. "Will you please go, now?"

He sat a moment, then rose:

"You make a point of excluding Gerald?"

"Yes."

"Very well; I'll telephone Draymore. And"--he looked back from the door
of his own apartments--"I got Julius Neergard on the wire this afternoon
and he'll dine with us."

He gathered up his shimmering kimona, hesitated, halted, and again
looked back.

"When you're dressed," he drawled, "I've a word to say to you about the
game to-night, and another about Gerald."

"I shall not play," she retorted scornfully, "nor will Gerald."

"Oh, yes, you will--and play your best, too. And I'll expect him next
time."

"I shall not