
No, the truth could not be told, but how did one account for three hundred pounds with never a bill to show? There was no need for Lord Pevensey’s daughter to cudgel her brains for more than a very few moments over that problem: few knew better than an Irvine how money could vanish without leaving a trace behind. “It wasn’t Dysart!” she said quickly. “I am afraid it was me!” She saw his face change, an arrested look in his eyes, a hardening of the lines about his mouth, and she felt suddenly frightened. “Pray don’t be angry!” she begged rather breathlessly. “I promise I will never do so any more!”
“Are you telling me you lost it at play?”
She hung her head again. After a pause he said: “I suppose I should have known that it would be in your blood too.”
“No, no, indeed it isn’t!” she cried, with passionate sincerity. “Only it seemed stupid and prudish not to play, when everyone else did so, and then I lost, and I thought that perhaps the luck would change, but it didn’t, and—”
“You need say no more!” he interrupted. “There was never yet a gamester who didn’t think the luck must change!” He looked frowningly at her, and added in a level tone: “I should be very reluctant, Nell, to take such steps as must put it wholly out of your power to play anything but silver-loo, or a pool at commerce, but I give you fair warning I will not permit my wife to become one of faro’s daughters.”
