Margaret watched the players with some little interest at first.  The disagreeable Mr. Feist lost and became even more disagreeable, and Margaret reflected that whatever he might be he was certainly not an adventurer, for she had seen a good many of the class.  The Ambassador lost even more, but with the quiet indifference of a host who plays because his guests like that form of amusement.  Lady Maud and the barrister were partners, and seemed to be winning a good deal; the peer whose hobby was applied science revoked and did dreadful things with his trumps, but nobody seemed to care in the least, except the barrister, who was no respecter of persons, and had fought his way to celebrity by terrorising juries and bullying the Bench.

At last Margaret let her head rest against the back of her comfortable chair, and when she closed her eyes because the cigarette smoke made them smart, she forgot to open them again, and went sound asleep; for she was a healthy young person, and had eaten a good dinner, and on evenings when she did not sing she was accustomed to go to bed at ten o’clock, if not earlier.

No one even noticed that she was sleeping, and the game went on till nearly midnight, when she was awakened by the sound of voices, and sprang to her feet with the impression of having done something terribly rude.  Every one was standing, the smoke was as thick as ever, and it was tempered by a smell of Scotch whisky.  The men looked more or less tired, but Lady Maud had not turned a hair.

The peer, holding a tall glass of weak whisky and soda in his hand, and blinking through his gold-rimmed spectacles, asked her if she were going anywhere else.

‘There’s nothing to go to yet,’ she said rather regretfully.

‘There are women’s clubs,’ suggested Logotheti.

‘That’s the objection to them,’ answered the beauty with more sarcasm than grammatical sequence.

‘Bridge till all hours, though,’ observed the barrister.

‘I’d give something to spend an evening at a smart women’s club,’ said the playwright in a musing tone.  ’Is it true that the Crown Prince of Persia got into the one in Mayfair as a waiter?’

‘They don’t have waiters,’ said Lady Maud.  ’Nothing is ever true.  I must be going home.’

Margaret was only too glad to go too.  When they were downstairs she heard a footman ask Lady Maud if he should call a hansom for her.  He evidently knew that she had no carriage.

‘May I take you home?’ Margaret asked.

‘Oh, please do!’ answered the beauty with alacrity.  ’It’s awfully good of you!’

It was raining as the two handsome women got into the singer’s comfortable brougham.

‘Isn’t there room for me too?’ asked Logotheti, putting his head in before the footman could shut the door.

‘Don’t be such a baby,’ answered Lady Maud in a displeased tone.

The Greek drew back with a laugh and put up his umbrella; Lady Maud told the footman where to go, and the carriage drove away.