“You are gracious and sweet!” he murmured in her ear.  “How could you ever be otherwise?”

The soft phrase passed unreproved.

“You have been down to Barminster again?” she inquired.

“Yes,” he replied, as he settled himself more comfortably.

“You have been very attentive to your father lately,” she said a little suspiciously; “I thought filial affection was not the Leroys’ strong point.”

“Nor is it,” he said with a laugh; “but it is business, my dear Eveline, odious business, into which Jasper inveigles me.”

“I thought Mr. Vermont was the new machine that was to save you trouble?”

“Yes, that’s what I thought,” was the languid reply.  “But one has to turn the handle, even of machines.  There are signatures, and leases, and Heaven knows what besides.”

“How is Lord Barminster?” she inquired.

“Splendid.”

“Lady Constance also well?”—­with the slightest tinge of restraint in her voice.

“Yes,” he answered indifferently; adding, “but you haven’t asked after ‘King Cole.’”

“Ah, no, but you would have told me at first if anything had been wrong with him.”

Leroy smiled.  He knew that to be true.

“He will win, you think?” she asked anxiously.

“Oh, yes!” was the careless reply.  “Vermont says there is nothing to touch him.”

The countess raised her eyebrows.

“You trust this Vermont with a great deal, Adrien.  Your horses, your wine, and your legal business.  He must be a wonderful man.”

“Yes,” he answered confidently.  “Jasper’s a treasure.  Nothing comes amiss to him.  I should be in my grave if I had to face half the worries he wrestles with daily.  Come,” he added, as the first bars of the new waltz floated from the gallery; and with a sigh of enjoyment she rose for the promised dance.

“No one’s step suits me like yours,” she breathed, when they paused for rest.  “Adrien, shall I back ‘King Cole’ for another two hundred?”

The two sentences were, perhaps, rather incongruous, but curiously characteristic of her ladyship; for, in addition to a natural love of intrigue, she had a partiality for betting on the turf and speculation on ’Change—­both, of course, sub rosa.

“Oh, yes,” he said, as they started again.  “Jasper has put two thousand more of mine on to-day.  There he is,” he broke off, as the sleek, carefully dressed figure of Mr. Vermont entered the ball-room.

“Talk of angels,” murmured Lady Merivale, but with a glance implying that she meant a being very far removed from that celestial grade.

Jasper Vermont did not excel at dancing; yet, strange to say, he was invariably invited to every big function of the season.  Indeed, the hostesses of Mayfair would almost as soon have omitted the name of Adrien Leroy himself as that of his friend.