Wilding, across the room, beckoned to Richard, and on his approach, dragged him to the cardroom to play at lansquenet with March, Selwyn and himself.

Carstares found the Earl in great good-humour, due, so Selwyn remarked, to the finding of an opera singer even more lovely than the last. From lansquenet they very soon passed to dice and betting, with others who strolled up to the table. Then Carstares excused himself and went back to the ballroom. He presently found himself by the side of one Isabella Fanshawe, a sprightly widow, greatly famed for her wittiness and good looks. Carstares had met her but once before, and was now rather surprised that she motioned him to her side, patting the couch with an inviting, much be-ringed hand.

“Come and sit by me, Mr. Carstares. I have wanted to speak with you this long time.” She lowered her mask as she spoke and closely scrutinised his face with her bright, humorous eyes.

“Why, madam, I am flattered,” bowed Richard.