Nell of Shorne Mills

While Drake had been absent, Lady Luce had stood, apparently listening

with profound attention and sympathy, but the movement of her fan almost

gave her away, for it grew rapid now and again, and when Lord Turfleigh

came up beside her, his hawklike eyes glancing sharply, like those of a

bird of prey, from their fat rims, she shot an angry and unfilial glance

at him.

"Where's Drake?" he asked, lowering his thick voice.

"Up there in that gallery somewhere; gone to pay compliments to that

fiddler fellow who is playing now."

"Gad!" said his lordship, with a stare of contempt at the rapt audience.

"What the devil does he want with the 'Dead March in Saul,' or whatever

it is, in the middle of a dance. Always thought he was mad! Has he

spoken, said anything?"

He lowered his voice still more, and eyed her eagerly.

She shook her head slightly by way of answer, and the coarse face

reddened.

"Curse me, if I can understand it--or you," he said, his hand tugging

at his dyed mustache. "You told me, God knows how long ago, that he was

'on' again; then he bolts--disappears."

"Do you want all these people to hear you?" she asked, her eyes hidden

by her slowly moving fan.

Her father had been several times to the refreshment buffet, and had

"lowered"--as he would have put it--the best part of a bottle of

champagne, and was a little off the guard which he usually maintained so

carefully.

"They can't hear. I'm not shouting. And you always evade me. You're not

behaving well, Luce. Dash it all! I've reason to be anxious! This match

means a good deal to me in the present state of our finances!"

"Hush!" she whispered warningly. "I can't explain now. I don't

understand it myself; but I've seen enough to know that I should only

lose him altogether if I tried to force him. You know him, or ought to

do so! Did you ever get anything from Drake by driving him? He had no

opportunity of speaking, of explaining."

"By gad! I don't understand it!" he muttered. "Either you're engaged to

him or you're not. You led me to believe that the match was on

again----"

The fan closed with a snap, and her blue eyes flashed at him with bitter

scorn.

"Hadn't you better leave me to play the game?" she asked. "Or perhaps

you think you can play it better than I can? If so----The man has

stopped; Drake will be down again. I don't want him to see us talking.

Go--and get some more champagne."