When he saw her talking to Madame Wachner in the Club, Count Paul would look across the baccarat table and there would come a little frown over his eyes—­a frown she alone could see.

And as the days went on, and as their intimacy seemed to grow closer and ever closer, there came across Sylvia a deep wordless wish—­and she had never longed for anything so much in her life—­to rescue her friend from what he admitted to be his terrible vice of gambling.  In this she showed rather a feminine lack of logic, for, while wishing to wean him from his vice, she did not herself give up going to the Casino.

She would have been angry indeed had the truth been whispered to her, the truth that it was not so much her little daily gamble—­as Madame Wachner called it—­that made Sylvia so faithful an attendant at the Club; it was because when there she was still with Paul de Virieu, she could see and sympathise with him when he was winning, and grieve when he was losing, as alas! he often lost.

When they were not at the Casino the Comte de Virieu very seldom alluded to his play, or to the good or ill fortune which might have befallen him that day.  When with her he tried, so much was clear to Sylvia, to forget his passion for gambling.

But this curious friendship of hers with Count Paul only occupied, in a material sense, a small part of Sylvia’s daily life at Lacville; and the people with whom she spent most of her time were still Anna Wolsky and Monsieur and Madame Wachner, or perhaps it should be said Madame Wachner.

It was not wonderful that Mrs. Bailey liked the cheerful woman, who was so bright and jovial in manner, and who knew, too, how to flatter so cleverly.  When with Madame Wachner Sylvia was made to feel that she was not only very pretty, but also immensely attractive, and just now she was very anxious to think herself both.

* * * * *

Late one afternoon—­and they all four always met each afternoon at the Casino—­Madame Wachner suddenly invited Sylvia and Anna to come back to supper at the Chalet des Muguets.

Anna was unwilling to accept the kindly invitation.  It was clear that she did not wish to waste as much time away from the Casino as going to the Wachners’ villa would involve.  But, seeing that Sylvia was eager to go, she gave way.

Now on this particular afternoon Sylvia was feeling rather dull, and, as she expressed it to herself, “down on her luck,” for the Comte de Virieu had gone into Paris for a few hours.

His sister, the Duchesse d’Eglemont, had come up from the country for a few days, and the great pleasure and delight he had expressed at the thought of seeing her had given the young English widow a little pang of pain.  It made her feel how little she counted in his life after all.

And so, for the second time, Sylvia visited the odd, fantastic-looking Chalet des Muguets, and under very pleasant auspices.