“Go to the devil for all I care!”

Sanford flung out of the room, banging the door behind him.  Eunice heard him speaking to Ferdinand, rather shortly, and as he left the apartment, she knew that he had gone to the club in their motor car, and if she went out, she would have to call a cab.

She began to take off her gown, half deciding to stay at home.  She had never run counter to Embury’s expressed orders and she hesitated to do so now.

And yet—­the question of money, so summarily dismissed by her husband, was a very real trouble to her.  In her social position, she actually needed ready cash frequently, and she had determined to get it.  Her last hope of Sanford failed her, when he refused to grant her wish as a sort of celebration of his election, and she persuaded herself that it was her right to get some money somehow.

Her proposed method was by no means a certain one, for it was the hazardous plan of winning at bridge.

Although a first-rate player, Eunice often had streaks of bad luck, and, too, inexpert partners were a dangerous factor.  But, though she sometimes said that winnings and losings came out about even in the long run, she had found by keeping careful account, her skill made it probable for her to win more than she lost, and this reasoning prompted her to risk high stakes in hope of winning something worth-while.

Fifi Desternay was a recent acquaintance of hers, and not a member of the set Eunice looked upon as her own.  But the gatherings at the Desternay house were gay and pleasant, a bit Bohemian, yet exclusive too, and Eunice had already spent several enjoyable afternoons there.

She had never been in the evening, for Embury wouldn’t go, and had refused to let her go without him.  Nor did she want to, for it was not Eunice’s way to go out alone at night.

But she was desperate and, moreover, she was exceedingly angry.  Sanford was unjust and unkind.  Also, he had been cross and ugly, and had left her in anger, a thing that had never happened before.

And she wanted some money at once.  A sale of laces was to be held next day at a friend’s home, and she wanted to go there, properly prepared to purchase some bits if she chose to.

Her cheeks flushed as she remembered Mason Elliott’s offer to give or lend her money, but she smiled gently, as she remembered the true friendliness of the man, and his high-mindedness, which took all sting from his offer.

As she brooded, her anger became more fierce, and finally, with a toss of her head, she rose from the chair, rang for the maid, and proceeded to finish her toilette.

“Lend me some money, will you, Aunt Abby?” she asked, as, all ready to go, she stepped into the livingroom.

She had no hesitancy in making this appeal.  If she won, she would repay on her return.  If she lost, Aunt Abby was a good-natured waiter, and she knew Eunice would pay later.