Her eyes widened a little, for this was playing deep, but she said coolly: “What you will, sir. If you are satisfied, it is not for me to cavil.”

“What humility, Miss Grantham?” he said, shuffling one of the packs. “If you should find it insipid, we can always double the stakes.”

Miss Grantham agreed to it, and in a moment of bravado suggested that they should play for twenty-five pounds the rubber, in addition. On these terms they settled down to the game, the lady with her nerves on the stretch, the gentleman abominably casual.

It was soon seen that Mr Ravenscar was a much more experienced player than his opponent; his calculation of the odds was very nice; he played his cards well; and had a disconcerting trick of summing up Miss Grantham’s hands with sufficient accuracy to make him a very formidable adversary. She went down on the first rubber, but not heavily, taking him to three games. He agreed that the balance of the luck had been with him.

“I’m emboldened to think you don’t find my play contemptible, at all events,” Miss Grantham said.

“Oh, by no means!” he replied. “Your play is good, for a lady. You are weakest in your discards.”

Miss Grantham cut the pack towards him with something of a snap.

In the middle of the third rubber, Lord Mablethorpe came back into the saloon, and made his way to Miss Grantham’s side. “Are you ruined yet, Deb?” he asked, smiling warmly down at her.

“No such thing! We have lost a rubber apiece, and this one is to decide the issue. Hush, now! I am very much on my mettle, and can’t be distracted.”

He drew up a frail, gilded chair, and sat down astride it, resting his arms on the back. “You said I might watch you!”

“So you may, and bring me good fortune, I hope. Your point is good, Mr Ravenscar.”

“Also my quint, Miss Grantham?”