“Play the game—­play the game, Alice, and so will I, and the rest of the world be hanged!” was what Tynemouth had said to his wife; and it would not have occurred to him to suspect Stafford, or to read one of his letters to Lady Tynemouth.  He had no literary gifts; in truth, he had no “culture,” and he looked upon his wife’s and Stafford’s interest in literature and art as a game of mystery he had never learned.  Inconsequent he thought it in his secret mind, but played by nice, clever, possible, “livable” people; and, therefore, not to be pooh-poohed openly or kicked out of the way.  Besides, it “gave Alice something to do, and prevented her from being lonely—­and all that kind of thing.”

Thus it was that Lady Tynemouth, who had played the game all round according to her lights, and thought no harm of what she did, or of her weakness for Ian Stafford—­of her open and rather gushing friendship for him—­had an almost honest dislike to seeing him brought into close relations again with the woman who had dishonourably treated him.  Perhaps she wanted his friendship wholly for herself; but that selfish consideration did not overshadow the feeling that Jasmine had cheated at cards, as it were; and that Ian ought not to be compelled to play with her again.

“But men, even the strongest, are so weak,” she had said to Tynemouth concerning it, and he had said in reply, “And the weakest are so strong—­sometimes.”

At which she had pulled his shoulder, and had said with a delighted laugh, “Tynie, if you say clever things like that I’ll fall in love with you.”

To which he had replied:  “Now, don’t take advantage of a moment’s aberration, Alice; and for Heaven’s sake don’t fall in love wiv me” (he made a v of a th, like Jigger).  “I couldn’t go to Uganda if you did.”

To which she had responded, “Dear me, are you going to Uganda?” and was told with a nod that next month he would be gone.  This conversation had occurred on the day of their arrival at Glencader; and henceforth Alice had forcibly monopolized Stafford whenever and wherever possible.  So far, it had not been difficult, because Jasmine had, not ostentatiously, avoided being often with Stafford.  It seemed to Jasmine that she must not see much of him alone.  Still there was some new cause to provoke his interest and draw him to herself.  The Jigger episode had done much, had altered the latitudes of their association, but the perihelion of their natures was still far off; and she was apprehensive, watchful, and anxious.

This afternoon, however, she felt that she must talk with him.  Waiting and watching were a new discipline for her, and she was not yet the child of self-denial.  Fate, if there be such a thing, favoured her, however, for as they drew near to the fireplace where the ambassador and Alice Tynemouth and her husband stood, Krool entered, came forward to Byng, and spoke in a low tone to him.