Presently Lady Cecilia called Mr. Hodgkinson to her, and in one moment Lord Valmond had slipped into his place.  I asked him why he was not in Yorkshire, and he said that he thought, after all, it was too far to go, and it was his duty to be at the Grassfield ball, as he has hunted with this pack sometimes.  He looked and looked at me, and I don’t know why, Mamma, but I felt so queer—­I almost wish he had not come.  I suppose Mrs. Smith is somewhere in this neighbourhood, and that is why he did not go to Yorkshire.  Sir Trevor monopolised most of the conversation, until we all got up to play baccarat.  I did not want to play as I don’t know it, and Lord Valmond said it would be much nicer to sit and talk, but Mrs. Murray-Hartley would not hear of our not joining in; and Octavia handed me a five-pound note and said I was not to lose more than that, so I thought I had better not go on refusing, and we went with the rest into the saloon, where there was a long table laid out with cards and counters.

[Sidenote:  Playing Baccarat]

Lord Valmond said he would teach me the game, and that we would bank together; however, Lady Doraine sat down in the chair he was holding for me, and she put her hand on his coat sleeve and said in such a lovely voice, “Harry, it is ages since I have had a chat with you, sit down here by me.”  But he answered No, he had promised to show me how to play, and his mouth was set quite square.  She looked so alluring I don’t know how he could have done it, it was almost as flattering to me as the Vicomte’s riding all night from Versailles.  She laughed—­but it was not a very nice laugh—­and she said, “Poor boy, is it as bad as that?” and he looked back at her in an insolent way, as if they were crossing swords, but he said nothing more, only we moved to the other side of the table, to where there were two empty chairs together.

When we sat down he said women were devils, which I thought very rude of him.  I told him so, and he said I wasn’t a woman; but I remember now, Mamma, he called me a “little devil” that time when he was so rude at Nazeby, so it shows how inconsistent men are, doesn’t it?  I sometimes think he would like to say all the nice things the Vicomte used to, only with Englishmen I suppose you have to be alone in the room for them to do that; they have not the least idea, like the French, of managing while they are speaking out loud about something else.

Every one looks very anxious here when they play; it is not at all a joke as the roulette used to be at Nazeby; and they do put a lot on, although counters don’t seem to be much to look at.  It is not at all a difficult game, Mamma, and some of the people were so lucky turning up “naturels,” but we lost in spite of them at our side of the table, and Lord Doraine said at last, that it was because we—­Lord Valmond and I—­were sitting together.  Valmond looked angry, but he chaffed back.  I don’t know what it was all about,